An Angel Remembered
by Theodore Hawkwood
Summary: "The death of a beautiful woman, is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world," according to Edgar Allan Poe. What if, with her murder, Alexandra Borgia left the man she loved behind?
1. Prologue: Goodbyes and Memories

**Prologue: Goodbyes and Memories**

 **Disclaimer:** I own neither _Where on Earth is Carmen Sandiego, G.I. Joe,_ nor _Law and Order_. The character of Deric Storm belongs to my good friend, NoLeafClover.

 **Author's Notes:** This is an AU related to my _Lilo and Stitch: The Summer of the Spies_ timeline. You need not read the story to get a sense of it. I'll explain elements of the AU history as I continue the tale. This story parallels Law and Order Seasons 14, 15, and 16.

The word _engel_ is Afrikaans for angel.

 **Tagline:** What if, with her murder, Alexandra Borgia left the man she loved behind?

* * *

 **Saint Peter's Cemetery  
** **Staten Island, NYC  
** **Nace Bilby  
** **22 June 2006**

Nace Bilby barely felt the summer rain as he walked up the road towards a plot. He walked slowly, somberly, a lump in his throat. Walking slightly down hill towards a headstone he wished he would never have to see. Gently shifting the flowers under his arm.

He stopped in front of the headstone, blinking his eyes, feeling them mist slightly as he read each line below the engraving of an angel:

 **In Loving Memory of  
** **Alexandra Borgia  
** **31 July 1975 - 26 April 2006**

He dropped to one knee, setting the bouquet of flowers at the base of her headstone. Then he stood back up, not speaking for a moment. _Barely past thirty. Not an age one should die. Least of all you. My engel._

With a slight gulp Nace began, "I miss you so much."

He reached one hand into his pocket, fingers rubbing against a small metal object in his pocket.

"I am sorry I couldn't be there for the funeral," Nace continued, as he looked down, voice quavering, "Sadly duty called me away. I wish I could have been there for that case. Maybe...maybe you would be here, alive, today."

Closing his eyes, reopening them again, with a sigh he continued, "I wish we hadn't had that fight before I left for the Congo. I wish I hadn't been so bloody pigheaded. Your letter arrived when I was in Virunga. I...I have to say that I didn't open it for a couple of days. I was honestly sure that the letter meant the end. I didn't know that it was just the opposite. That you'd said yes. Yes to us spending our lives together."

Reaching into his pocket he set a small chrome circular badge on top of the headstone. A dagger inside a laurel wreath. The badge of the South African Special Forces. He leaned forward and kissed the cold stone.

Once he rose to his full height he spoke again, "Being with you was the best two years of my life and I don't think I can stay in New York any longer. I plan to return to South Africa when my tour ends in three months. I'm honestly not sure if there's really anything left for me here anymore."

With an audible gulp Nace turned around, walking away in the driving rain. As he stepped away from Alexandra's grave he swore an oath.

"If I find the bastards who did this, I swear I will send them screaming to the Acheron's far shores."

* * *

 **New York City Subway System  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Nace Bilby, Deric Storm  
** **15 March 2004, 0715**

Nace Bilby opened his eyes after stifling a yawn. The jetlag of having landed in New York City two days earlier from South Africa was catching up. As he opened them he noticed a slender, dark haired woman holding onto one of the bars on the opposite side of the subway car with one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

 _Lovely woman. Mid to late twenties. Professional manner of dress, as evidenced by the blouse and pencil skirt._ Nace thought as he glanced over.

She looked up and gave him a polite, I don't know you but you're staring sort of smile. Nace smiled back. _I need_ _to work on the subtlety bit._

The subway car jarred slightly, and Nace instinctively gripped the subway pole tighter with his left hand. He looked around the subway car again, lest the dark haired woman start to think him a threat.

 _Bloody crowded._ Nace thought as he felt the subway car bumping along the track as it started to slow down as it reached its next stop. Nace felt the press of bodies as several people pushed to the exit. He noted the woman was one of them.

 _Damn. I might've approached if she'd stayed on for another stop. Such is life._ Nace thought to himself.

"Hey Bilbs," a voice echoed to his left.

"Yeah," Nace said as he turned around, looking up to speak to the tall, athletic blond haired man standing next to him.

"See something ya like?" Deric said as the train started to move.

"Perhaps," Nace replied, "Unfortunately she'd gotten off at the last stop."

"The early bird catches the worm," Deric smirked, "You might've gotten a date Saturday night."

"Bloody hell, Deric, I just landed here," Nace countered, "And in all probabilities I'm not likely to see this woman again."

"You never know," Deric grinned.

* * *

 **ACME Field Office  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Nace Bilby, Deric Storm, Probationary Agents  
** **22 March 2004, 0915**

Five probationary agents, recent graduates of ACME's East Coast training academy at Quantico, VA, walked in the small classroom. Along the perimeter of the classroom were long tables displaying several each of which had several different mockups of different mines, grenades, rockets, and even a couple of artillery shells. They walked among the displays around the perimeter.

The lean, athletic built man with brown hair and gray-brown eyes spoke softly into his cellphone, "I understand. I'll see you in a few minutes."

He tucked the cell phone into his pocket before addressing the five probationary agents, saying, "Right, that was Agent Darren, our guests from the New York City District Attorney's Office are running a bit late. While you wait keep examining the different mockups around the room. Again, a thing to remember is this: If you encounter an unexploded bomb, or UXB, or a booby trap in the field do not attempt to disarm it. Contact your local bomb squad to sort them out."

Agent Deric Storm, standing on the edge of the classroom, near its entrance smirked.

"Ooooh, we gonna see 'Teletubbies on Parade'?" he said in a fake Cockney accent.

"It's a bomb suit, not a bloody Gucci suit," Nace replied with a smirk of his own.

"Is the ACME Detective Agency in the business of dressing up as children's entertainment, Agent Storm?" A voice echoed from the entrance.

Nace's eyes turned towards the classroom's entrance and he noticed a tall, lean bodied man with gray hair and wearing a three piece suit walking into the room. Behind him was a woman, slightly shorter than the man to her front. Recognition hit Nace like a punch to the jaw. _The lady from the subway car._

With them was a lean, athletic red haired woman that he knew was Deric's wife, Agent Ivy Darren Storm.

"It looks like our guests have arrived, so take your seats," Nace began. _And any minute now Matt Saxton, with his propensity to fall asleep at the most inopportune moments is going to receive a rather unpleasant surprise._

"My name is Agent Nace Bilby," he began, "and I am pleased to welcome our guests from the New York City District Attorney's office. Would the pair of you be so kind as to introduce yourselves?"

The two attorneys headed to the front of the classroom before turning around to face the five students.

"Executive Assistant District Attorney Jack McCoy," the man said.

"Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Borgia," the woman replied.

"Pleased to meet the pair of you," Nace replied, shaking hands with Jack and Alexandra in turn before the two headed to their seats.

"Now then, if you're wondering who the bloke with the odd accent speaking to you is, look up at the overhead."

Nace clicked the button on a handheld remote control switching the first slide which showed the class title, _An Introduction to Explosive Hazards. Instructor: Agent Nace Bilby._

"Ooooh, schmancy," Deric piped up from the back before receiving an elbow to the ribs from his bride causing some light laughter from the students.

The next slide showed Nace's background:

 **About the Instructor:**

 **\- South African Army, 8 Years Service  
** **\- South African Citizen Militia Force, Present Day and Continuing  
** **\- Military specialties:  
** **\- Explosive Ordnance Disposal (3 years experience)  
** **\- Sniping (3 years experience)  
** **\- Combat Diving (7 years experience)  
** **\- Hometown: Johannesburg, South Africa**

"First a little bit about myself, I served on active service with the South African Army for eight years before transferring to the Citizen Militia Force, an organization similar to your US Army National Guard and working in ACME," Nace replied, "My favorite Rugby team is the Springboks…"

"Are they always like this?" Alexandra whispered towards McCoy as they walked to their seats.

"Storm may come off as a smartass but he's probably one of ACME's most effective agents," McCoy replied.

Nace noticed the students and the two DAs were in the process of taking their seats. _Something's wrong?_ _Did I not connect the wiring right? Or did it somehow get knocked loose when the cleaners were in here last night?_

It was as Alexandra Borgia took her seat that Nace would find out exactly what the disposition of his planned surprise was. A siren blared loudly and a blue strobe light underneath the bottom of the chair began to pulse loudly with the blaring siren.

"Oh bollocks!" Nace exclaimed, running towards Alexandra's chair, noticing the shock on the ADA's face.

As he reached the chair he swiftly blurted, "I'm terribly sorry about this. I'll get you sorted out."

"Googly, Bilbs," Deric said, suppressing a chuckle, "I thought the lady won a prize for a second."

"What?" Alexandra shouted, barely able to hear what the South African was saying. She craned her neck as the man dove underneath the chair.

He dove under the chair and began pulling at a couple of wires and the sound finally stopped. Nace crawled out from underneath the chair, complexion reddening.

"I am terribly sorry about that," Nace said as he stood up, tucking a Leatherman multi-tool into a leather pouch on his belt.

"The ringing in my ears is dying down," Alexandra replied, "So the jury is still out whether any harm was done."

"My apologies again, counselor, but this particular device was not intended for you," Nace replied as he crouched down.

"Alright, who was it intended for?" Alexandra asked, with a questioning a witness tone.

"It was for a student of mine who has somnolent tendencies in class," Nace replied as he hefted some wiring, a battery, and the strobelight and siren in his left hand.

"So have you considered any alternatives other than wiring sirens into students' seats?" Alexandra asked, incredulous.

"Let's just say I received a reprimand over my alternative and leave it at that, counselor," Nace replied before walking towards the front of the classroom.

As the siren sound stopped a heavy set man with dirty blond hair in his mid-twenties turned towards Jack McCoy and asked, "Counselor, can I press charges for assault?"

"Against who?" McCoy asked, turning to his right and talking to the young man.

"Against Agent Bilby," Matthew Saxton said, whispering.

"What happened?" McCoy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I fell asleep in class last week and he threw a chalkboard eraser at me," Saxton groused.

"Well, Mr…" McCoy began.

"Probationary Agent Saxton."

"Well, Agent Saxton, you're asking in the wrong jurisdiction as ACME is an international agency," McCoy said, "You'd better ask your own legal department."

"Right," Nace began as he stood in front of the classroom, "I do hope you realize that an explosive hazard can come in any form and its most lethal is the IED."

The South African walked up and down the front of the classroom, eyes scanning the room as he did so, "What you witnessed is an example of how an IED can be triggered. Imagine if that pressure switch ADA Borgia had sat on were wired to a half kilogram of C4 or any similar explosive agent?"

 _You wanker._ Nace thought to himself.

The rest of the lecture proceeded without incident and after the class concluded Nace approached Alexandra and Jack and said, "I hope you enjoyed the lecture, minus the faux pas."

Despire herself Alexandra chuckled lightly, "It's not every day you sit down and find a siren under your chair."

Nace laughed lightly, "Well, it certainly beat Erasergate that's for sure."

"Erasergate?" Alexandra asked, curiosity piqued.

"Deric's nickname for the eraser incident last week," Nace replied, "Right, I'll take you two to Inspector Strickland's office. He should be done with his meeting by now."

"Thank you," McCoy said, and remarked, "And certainly amusing Agent Bilby."

"Right, this way," Nace said as he led the two lawyers out of the classroom and towards the stairwell.

* * *

 **ACME Field Office  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Jack McCoy, Alexandra Borgia Gerald Strickland and Roy Randall  
** **22 March 2004, 1022**

Alexandra Borgia heard the knock on the door after she and Jack had followed the South African out of the classroom and up the stairs towards the conference room. As they walked up the stairs she made her own impressions of the man. _Polite and reserved. Not to mention a little eccentric._

"Again, my apologies about the siren," Nace said as the approached the conference room door.

"No harm was done, I just got a bit startled," Alexandra said.

"I do feel rather badly that the pair of you had to get involved," Nace replied.

"It's alright, Agent Bilby," Jack replied. Nace nodded in return

"Gentlemen," Nace said after knocking on the conference room door, "ADAs Jack McCoy and Alexandra Borgia for you."

Nace stepped aside to let the two of them enter the room before offering the two of them a polite smile. Alexandra returned it before turning to face the two men in the room. One of the two men was a short, stocky bald fellow wearing a black and white pinstripe shirt with rolled up sleeves and gray slacks and the other fellow was a balding African American fellow with some graying at the beard and remaining hair wearing a three piece suit.

"Thank you Agent Bilby," the bald man said, "you may go."

Nace nodded and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him as he left. After Nace departed the African American man introduced himself, "Chief Inspector Roy Randall. To the right is my deputy, Inspector Gerald Strickland."

After a brief exchange of pleasantries Randall began, "I understand you two had quite the introduction to our training program for probationary agents recently."

"Chief, Agent Bilby's latest scheme to try and keep Probationary Agent Matthew Saxton awake in class had got a bit out of hand," Strickland replied, "I already have a written reprimand waiting for your signature…"

"Jerry," Randall began, calmly, "Retract the claws. No harm was done. If nothing else the building got a nice little morning jolt from Agent Bilby's actions."

"Yes Chief," Strickland replied, "I will have a talk with Agent Bilby about his methods. I get the feeling he's going to drive me crazier than Agent Storm _already_ does."

 _And it's little wonder you're bald._ Alexandra thought as she saw Strickland and Randall take their seats. As she was about to take her seat, she turned around and crouched down to examine the underside of the chair.

With an amused chuckle Randall said, "I assure you, Ms. Borgia, there isn't a siren wired underneath your seat."

"Evidently around here you can't be too careful," Alexandra replied. McCoy shot her a look.

"Gentlemen, the District Attorney has reviewed your proposal for dealing with international crimes in New York City," McCoy began, "And frankly he agrees with ACME assisting the NYPD in cases involving international crime as well as select cases. He sent us here to take care of some of the details of this arrangement."

The meeting continued, as Alexandra took notes on a legal pad. She listened as McCoy, Randall, and Strickland continued to discuss said smaller details.

* * *

 **ACME Field Office  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Nace Bilby, Deric Storm, Ivy Darren  
** **22 March 2004, 1033**

As Nace Bilby walked into the Break Room he could smell the aroma of a freshly brewed pot of coffee. He grabbed his mug, hanging from a set of hooks on the wall, and poured himself a fresh cup.

He took a sip of the cup and exclaimed, "Ivy, for God's sake, your coffee should come with a warning label that reads 'do not dump at cemetery lest the zombie apocalypse kick off'."

"Either that," Deric said, emptying his cup into the sink, "or kill us all."

He flashed a playful wink at the glowering redhead as he rinsed the mug out and put it back in its proper place.

"Speaking of waking the dead," Ivy countered, sipping from her own mug of coffee, "That siren you rigged under ADA Borgia's chair could also do the same."

"For the last time she wasn't the intended target," Nace groaned as he leaned against the counter, "Saxton was."

"We know that," Ivy replied with a smile, "But that still doesn't change the fact that ADA Borgia wound up triggering your little surprise."

"I was attempting to avoid a reprimand from the Inspector over another Erasergate," Nace countered.

"So you went with Sirengate instead? Well done," Deric said with a slow round of applause, "Well done."

"Don't rub it in, bru," Nace remarked, after sipping more coffee from the mug, "I feel like enough of a wanker as it stands."

"Aye yi yi," a lean, suntanned Latin man wearing a three piece suit and a string tie said as he walked into the room, "Nace, were _you_ the one responsible for that racket earlier?"

"Did the entire building hear about this?" Nace asked.

"More like the entire building heard it happen," Armando said as he took his mug down from the rack and headed to the coffee pot.

"I may as well have thrown an eraser at Mattie the Narcoleptic again," Nace replied sourly, "It would result in a lot less grief than I'm currently receiving."

"So what happened with the siren?" Armando asked.

At this Deric gave a great belly laugh, "This one's a classic, Manny."

"For God's sake," Nace replied, "Can we forget the last hour and a half elapsed?"

"Nope," Deric said, laughing, "He's gonna hear it eventually, dude. Might as well tell him yourself."

"Well, it was during my introduction to explosive hazards course that I believed I'd found a solution to the Mattie the Narcoleptic problem," Nace replied, with a sigh, "I stayed late to sort this out too. I dismantled one of the chairs in the classroom, the one he _always_ favors too."

"The one with the really comfortable leather cushioning," Ivy affirmed, "Good pattern analysis."

"Ivy, let the man finish his story," Armando said, as he poured a cup of coffee.

"Well, having removed the cushioning from the chair I inserted a pressure switch made of two thin pieces of metal separated by hollow squares of balsa wood. Once my intended quarry sat down on the chair it would close a circuit wired into a battery powering a flashing blue strobe light and one of the warning sirens that I attached to the underside of the chair," Nace replied, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Okay, I understand how the thing works," Armando said, "And I have to admire your ingenuity. The sixty four dollar question remains: _how_ did ADA Borgia get mixed up into this?"

"Evidently the chairs got switched around somehow between Friday night and class this morning. Perhaps when the bloody cleaning crew went through," Nace replied, "ADA Borgia wound up finding the seat that had the siren rigged into it."

Armando started to laugh.

"Ha ha ha ha ha," Nace quipped gruffly, only for Deric to join in the laughter.

"So, how do you think the meeting Inspector Strickland and Chief Inspector Randall are having with our guests from the DA's office is going?" Ivy asked as the laughter began to subside.

"I'm not going to speculate, given I was in the conference room for a grand total of five minutes," Nace replied.

* * *

 **TBC**


	2. Part I: Starting Down Memory Lane

**Part I: Starting Down Memory Lane**

 **Disclaimer:** Same as before.

The words _boet_ and _bru_ are Afrikaans for 'brother'. It's a term of endearment for a close male friend.

 _Oom_ is Afrikaans for uncle.

 _Kraal_ refers to a farmstead.

* * *

 **District Attorney's Office  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Nace Bilby, Deric Storm, Alexandra Borgia  
** **29 March 2004, 1044**

"The case file on the money laundering operation," Nace began as he handed a thick manila envelope off.

"Thank you, Agent Bilby," Alexandra said as she stood up from her desk to take the file from the South African's outstretched hand.

"I assure you that this file doesn't have a siren wired into it," Nace replied with a wide smile.

"I didn't think so," Alexandra replied.

"Only because I've not yet sorted out how to do that," Nace smirked.

"I could have you charged with interfering with an investigation if you did figure that out," Alexandra countered with a smirk of her own.

"Right," Nace replied, "And anyway, counselor, I wouldn't do that to you."

"Because I don't have 'somnolent tendencies'?" Alexandra replied, brushing a stray strand of hair back over her shoulder.

"Precisely," Nace replied with a second smile.

"Yet you brought up the idea of a siren being wired into the casefile anyway," Alexandra replied, "Which does invite a question as to why you brought it up."

"Counterargument, counselor," Nace began, pointing at the ceiling with his his index finger, a longstanding habit when making a point.

"You're _really_ going to argue with a lawyer, Mr. Bilby?" Alexandra said.

"I dare do all that is becoming for a man," Nace replied with a grin.

"Macbeth," Alexandra said, placing the file on her desk as she spoke, "Very clever. I suppose all South African bomb disposal techs are able to recite Shakespeare off the cuff?"

Nace noticed Deric glancing at his watch and tapping his foot before he replied, smiling and pointing at himself with his thumb, "No, just this one. Anyway to continue my counter argument, I brought up the siren owing to the fact that one was involved in our first meeting."

"I can also bring up the argument that your student with somnolent tendencies is nowhere near here," Alexandra countered, "But I really do have to get back to work."

"Right, so do I. Good day counselor," Nace replied before he and Deric headed out of the room and towards the elevator.

"Finally," Deric said, as the elevator moved downwards to the lobby, "How long does it take to deliver a file, Bilby?"

"Sorry, got a bit sidetracked there," Nace replied as they walked into the lobby.

"Sidetracked," Deric smirked, making air quotes around the word, "riiiiiiight. Is that what they're calling it now?"

"Right, anyway, my apologies and…" Nace began as the door to the elevator in the lobby opened, disgorging ADA Borgia.

"Bilby, Storm, I need to talk to you two. Right now," Alexandra said, without any preamble, "You in particular, Agent Storm."

"I didn't do it," Deric deadpanned.

Nace chuckled at the remark only to get fixed with a glare from Alexandra.

"It's how my partner relieves tension," Nace explained before asking, "May I ask what this is about?"

"The little matter of the electronics store called _Going Out of Business_ and a front window," Alexandra said, holding up a page from the report, "It says here that you, Agent Storm, body checked one of the suspects into the window in the middle of a foot pursuit."

"Hey, the guy was armed and dangerous _and_ going for a hostage," Deric protested, "It seemed like a good idea at the time. Also I was aiming to put him up against the brick wall next to the window."

"I'm beginning to understand why you earned the nickname Calamity," Alexandra replied, "I may want some additional statements from both of you when this gets to trial."

"You'll get them, Counselor," Nace interjected hastily, "I'll even walk them here myself."

 _Of course you will, Bilbs,_ Deric thought with a small smirk as he saw the way Nace was looking at the ADA.

"Thank you, Agent Bilby. I'd appreciate that," Alexandra smiled before heading back to the elevator.

When the elevator door closed Deric turned and asked Nace, "What was that all about?"

"What was _what_ all about?" Nace asked.

"You being so smiley with the ADA just now," Deric replied as they walked out of the building.

"It's called being polite and civil, my friend," Nace countered, "After all, didn't Inspector Strickland _and_ Chief Inspector Randall give us a talking to about cultivating good relations with the various civil services here in New York City? To include, of course, the District Attorney's office."

"Bullshit, Bilbs," Deric said, "You were hardcore flirting with her."

"I was just being nice," Nace protested.

"Nice," Deric said, "I think promising to hand walk a file at the ADA's beck and call is beyond "nice"."

"I merely offered to walk any additional statements she wanted from us to try and defuse the situation," Nace replied as they approached the subway tunnel, "She was rather annoyed with you over Windowgate."

The two men went down into the Canal Street Station, headed to the platform and waited for their train. Presently they got aboard.

"I still say you were being more than nice with ADA Borgia," Deric smirked as the subway car began its movement, "Ask her out already. It's not like either of you are ugly or anything."

"Look, _bru_ ," Nace replied, "I'd have to be a total bloody eunuch not to notice she's a lovely woman."

* * *

 **ACME Field Office  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Ivy Darren Storm and Armando Arguilla  
** **29 March 2004, 1233**

"So where are Deric and Nace anyway?" Armando asked

"They're probably still at the District Attorney's Office turning over the case file on that money laundering ring they were working," Ivy replied before she took a fork full of lettuce and a slice of tomato into her mouth.

"They left at 10 o'clock," Armando said, glancing at his watch, "And it's now, Santa Maria, just after twelve-thirty! How long does it take them to deliver a file to the DA's office?"

"It depends, maybe the DA had questions for them," Ivy said after she swallowed the bite of her salad.

"Well we can always ask them," Armando said gesturing to the two men who were heading in their direction with trays of food from the cafeteria serving line.

Ivy craned her neck, "Sounds like the visit to the DA's office generated a little controversy."

"Like I said earlier, Deric," Nace replied as they approached the table, "I'd have to be a sodding eunuch to fail to notice she's a beautiful woman."

"So what happened to you two at the DA's office?" Ivy asked as Deric and Nace neared the table.

Deric took the seat beside his wife, giving her a light peck on the cheek before sitting beside her.

"Probably the longest paperwork delivery I've ever seen," Deric groaned, glaring over at Nace, "Because _someone_ got 'sidetracked'."

"Presumably by the beautiful woman you two were arguing about?" Armando replied.

"Yes," Deric replied, "This guy was hardcore flirting with her."

"Okay, _amigo_ , I get the picture," Armando replied, grinning toothily.

"For the last time I doubt a short conversation is anything remotely in the neighborhood of flirting," Nace argued before taking a bite out of his sandwich.

"Short conversation my ass, Bilbs," Deric exclaimed, "You two were bantering back and forth and smiling at each other. And someone tried to be slick with the Bard."

"Lots of people quote Shakespeare, Deric," Nace countered.

"To include those trying to charm the opposite sex," Deric said, annoyed.

"Down, boy," Ivy said, "Start from the beginning, namely, who is this mystery woman?"

"Oh that's easy, ADA Alexandra Borgia," Deric replied.

Armando let out a low whistle, "That's gonna be a challenge."

"I'm well aware your infamous Latin charm failed some months ago," Nace said with a wry grin, "Which establishes ADA Borgia as a woman of good taste."

"Shots fired!" Deric smirked only for Ivy to elbow him in the ribs.

"You wound me, Bilby," Armando said, "You may have, what you say, an uphill battle on your hands, though."

"If that's the case, that's the case," Nace replied without any emotion.

"Aha, so you _were_ flirting with her," Deric declared triumphantly.

"I'll neither confirm nor deny, _bru_ ," Nace smirked.

"Well it's not a totally hopeless case," Armando said, "I will be more than willing to lend _my_ expertise in the fairer sex."

"At some price, I presume?" Nace joked.

"We'll talk that at a later time," Armando said, smiling, "Now the first part of this consult is this: when was your last date?"

Nace closed one eye as he thought. Armando sighed and took a pull of his water glass.

"It was about six years ago," Nace replied.

At this Armando began to cough and choke. Nace whacked Armando on the back a few times.

With a couple coughs Armando said, "Six years? _Six years?_ Aye yi yi, _amigo_ , you are long out of practice."

Deric asked, "Okay, here's another question, what are you looking for, Nace?"

"In what, Deric?" Nace asked.

"In relationships, of course, Bilbs?"

"Well, I am looking for something long term. Maybe leading to marriage if I'm lucky," Nace replied.

"Well, then, Manny, your qualifications _might_ not be suitable," Deric smirked.

"I've dated _plenty_ of women!" Armando protested.

"Yeah, but never for more than a month or so," Deric countered.

"Bite me, Farmboy," Armando exclaimed.

"Didn't you have to pay someone for that once?" Deric asked.

Nace chuckled as he tucked back into his meal, listening as Deric and Armando went back and forth arguing about the latter's love life.

"Oi," Nace said, "Here comes Strickland."

Indeed, Inspector Strickland was crossing the cafeteria with a purpose. He approached the table with the four agents and said, "Agent Arguilla, I read your report on the migrant smuggling ring here in New York. There's one more lead I need you to follow up on in Arizona."

"Alright boss," Armando replied.

"Take Agent Bilby with you. Never hurts to have a second set of eyes," Strickland said.

"Right boss. When do we leave?" Nace asked.

"You two are on a Jet Blue flight at 7:05 P.M. to Phoenix. There will be an agent from the Phoenix office to pick you two up," Strickland replied.

"Right boss," Nace replied.

"Got it," Armando said in reply.

Strickland nodded and then walked back to his office at a somewhat more leisurely gait. As soon as Strickland was out of earshot Armando said, "I gotta get home and pack."

"As do I," Nace replied, "It's a bit of a trip to Staten Island. Plus I have to bring my dog over to the kennel."

"Bilbs, we have a dog, why not just drop him off here and we can take him home with us?" Deric asked.

"If it's not an imposition," Nace replied.

"Bring the little fellow over," Deric offered.

"Thank you Deric, I'd best get going then," Nace replied, as he stood up from the table, picking up his tray to dispose of the leftovers.

* * *

 **St. Patrick's Cathedral  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Nace Bilby, Goliath, and Deric Storm  
** **29 March 2004, 1455**

Nace Bilby tugged lightly at the leather leash connected to the collar of the 14-week old German Shepherd puppy trotting alongside him.

"Sorry, Goliath, no chasing pigeons today. We're on a bit of a tight schedule," Nace chided the wide eyed puppy. Goliath let out a small whine as if he understood.

"Do you always talk to your dog, Bilbs?" Deric asked as he approached.

Goliath let out a bark, tugging at his leash as he saw and smelled Deric.

"So this is the little fellow," Deric said, grinning. Goliath barked again, tail wagging as he approached Deric.

The puppy sniffed at Deric's shoe before raising himself on Deric's leg, tail wagging.

"Goliath, off!" Nace commanded. The pup got back down on all fours before sitting down, looking up at Deric.

"Any reason you asked to meet up here?" Deric asked, "I mean, Manny said you left your bags at your desk and said you had to go somewhere quickly."

"I had a quick errand to sort out before I get to the airport," Nace replied, indicating the cathedral.

"At the church?" Deric asked.

"Given I'm probably going to have my hands full in Arizona I don't have time for my weekly ritual," Nace replied.

"Pardon me?" Deric said, as Nace handed him the leash.

"Usually before Mass on Sunday I go in a half hour earlier," Nace replied, "I light a candle and say a prayer for the boys who didn't come home."

 _As well as for those dead by my hand._ Nace thought to himself. _But that's something I'd best not bring up._

"I can understand that, Bilbs," Deric said softly as Nace handed him Goliath's leash.

"Thank you, _boet_ ," Nace said softly, before crouching down and giving Goliath a hearty pat on the head.

He felt the puppy's tongue licking his hand before the small dog reared up on its hind paws and started licking his face.

"Good boy," Nace said, "Now you be good for _Oom_ Deric, right?"

Goliath barked again and Nace stood up, "Thank you."

"No prob," Deric said, "See you back at the office."

Nace waved as he walked up the church steps and into the sanctuary. He could hear the choir was practicing in the corner.

" _Immaculate Mary your praises we sing. You reign now in splendor with Jesus our King. Ave Ave Ave Maria. Ave Ave Maria."_

Nace walked over to an alcove where a bank of candles in red plastic jars lined the wall. He lit a match, lighting an unlighted candle before kneeling before it. Crossing himself Nace closed his eyes.

"God I pray for the souls of the lads who didn't make it back. Friends of mine killed in numerous battles in Rhodesia and South Africa."

" _In Heaven the Blessed Your Glory Proclaim. On Earth we your children invoke your sweet name. Ave Ave Ave Maria. Ave Ave Maria."_

"I pray, also, for those dead by my hand. Those lives I had to take in battle. May those souls also be at peace," Nace continued his prayer.

" _We pray for the Church, our true Mother on Earth. And then You to watch o'er the land of our birth. Ave Ave Ave Maria. Ave Ave Maria."_

"I pray that you watch over my mates still on active service back in South Africa," Nace finished, "Amen."

After crossing himself Nace stood up, and walked out of the sanctuary. A trip back to the office and a longer trip to the airport would leave time for Nace's mind to drift…

* * *

 **Suspected ZANLA Encampment  
** **Near Chioco, Mozambique  
** **Nace Bilby  
** **15 September 1996, 0450**

Lance Corporal Nace Bilby inhaled deeply as he lay prone behind some rocks overlooking the small _kraal_ where several ZANLA militants were holed up.

After an arduous multi-hour hike following a parachute jump he had gotten into the position. That had been at least three hours ago and now be observed the ZANLA man standing by the fence through the aperture of his telescope sighted FN-FAL rifle.

 _Stag duty. This lot of wankers is professional._ Nace thought to himself. _They've stopped gathering in big groups since the 1994 when us and the Rhodesians kept hitting them hard._

Nace adjusted the crosshairs again, as the man turned around to walk along the fence again. He placed the aiming reticle at the base of the man's skull.

 _450 meters. I can make this shot easily._ Nace thought, before catching himself. _Best not get arrogant. That can kill me just as quickly as a bullet._

The man continued his walk down the fence line, not knowing that today was his last day on earth.

Nace watched the sentry's movement. _He's got his rifle in hand as opposed to slung over the shoulder. Looks generally alert. Disciplined._

The man stopped, leaning his AK-47 against the fence, rummaging through his pocket for a cigarette. He lit the cigarette, putting his lighter back into his pocket, and picked up the AK.

 _Not that well disciplined. Doesn't think he's being watched._ Nace thought as he adjusted the reticle, aiming towards the point just under the man's nose.

He knew the other three men on his sniper team had each selected a target, zeroing scopes on heads and hearts.

 _Right. If I bollocks this up the lads sneaking up on the kraal are in for a fight._ Nace thought as he adjusted his aiming point slightly.

 _Young sort of bloke. Late teens. But that's the age one is most impressionable._ Nace thought.

He found himself looking at a face with barely a stubble of facial hair. The face of a very young man.

"In position," the voice echoed into his radio headset.

With those two words Nace squeezed the trigger. The FN-FAL bucked with recoil sending a single bullet on its way. The young man's head pitched backward as the bullet collided with his upper lip, sending the round into his skull and brain. His body fell limply to the ground…

* * *

 **John F. Kennedy International Airport  
** **Queens, NYC  
** **Nace Bilby, Armando Arguilla, and Ivy Storm  
** **29 March 2005, 1645**

"Nace?" Ivy said from the driver's seat.

Ivy's voice jerked Nace out of his reverie, "Yeah?"

"We're at the airport," Ivy said, "Shake a leg."

"Right," Nace replied, "Sorry I was miles away."

"Obviously," Ivy replied.

"Again, my apologies," Nace replied as he grabbed his backpack and stepped out of the car. He pulled a shoulder bag from the trunk before following Armando into the terminal.

As they walked to security, Armando asked, "What was that all about?"

"Bit of a long story, _bru_ , and honestly not one I'd like to tell at the moment," Nace replied.

* * *

 **TBC**


	3. Part I: Of Dogsitters and Statements

**Part I: Of Dogsitters, Statements, and Explosives**

 **Disclaimer:** Same as before.

* * *

 **Deric and Ivy's Residence  
** **Brooklyn, NYC  
** **29 March 2004, 1816**

The first indicator that Deric Storm had of his wife's arrival was the sound of their front door swinging shut. The next clue was watching Ghost, his and Ivy's Husky-wolf mix, lift his head up, sniff the air and put his head back down while Goliath took off for the front door.

"Incoming, Red," Deric said as Goliath started barking.

"Hey!" Ivy protested as Goliath tried to jump up on her, tail wagging.

"Welcome home," Deric teased.

"Very funny," Ivy said as she walked into the living room. Goliath trotted alongside Ivy before grabbing hold of her pants leg and tugging on it.

"Leave it!" Ivy yelped.

"Down boy," Deric smirked. "You just ate already."

"Don't encourage him!" Ivy snapped back.

"Alright," Deric smirked, before saying, "Goliath, Ghost!" and pointed out of the room.

Both dogs headed out of the living room as Ivy crouched down to check her trouser leg, "No damage."

"Minor miracles," Deric said, getting up to pour his wife a glass of wine, "Rough day?"

"The usual," Ivy sighed as she took the offered drink before sitting down on the couch, "Don't get me wrong, I like living here and working more closely with Interpol and the UN, but there are times I _really_ miss San Fran."

She took a sip of the wine as Deric sidled up next to her on the couch.

"I know," Deric said, kissing the side of her head and pulling her close, "me too."

"It's just everything is so different," Ivy began after taking another sip, "the energy, the people, heck even the view is different."

"The only view I care about is the one right in front of me."

Ivy smiled, turning her head to glance at her husband, "So you're admiring the view."

"Always, Red," Deric said, a sappy smile on his face. "Always."

Placing her wineglass on the coffee table, she turned to face Deric. With a husky tone she said, "What about this view?"

Ivy then gently pushed Deric until he was laying down on their couch before climbing on top of him.

Deric's smile broadened as he wrapped his arms around Ivy's waist, pulling her close to him and leaning forward to kiss her. Ivy's arms slid up around Deric's neck, closing her eyes as she and Deric's lips touched.

The kissing grew more intense and as they broke for want of air Ivy whispered, "Think we should move this upstairs?"

"Here's not too bad," Deric replied with another brief kiss.

"You are bad, you know that?" Ivy smirked as she kissed him back.

"But you do like bad," Deric smirked, "You did marry me after all."

"Hmm," Ivy sighed as she felt Deric's lips on her neck, "This is true…ooh…"

Deric moved his face back up to face Ivy's once he found that little place on her neck where he knew she was especially sensitive.

Ivy's face sported a mischievous grin, "Well, Farmboy, I think we should get up and away from canine eyes…" Deric followed her gaze over to where Ghost and Goliath had reappeared in the room.

"I like how you think," Deric said before lifting Ivy up in his arms, supporting her weight at her shoulders and the back of her knees. Ivy shifted her arms around Deric's neck, angling her face to kiss her husband deeply.

After the kiss Deric carried his wife up the stairs as Ivy caressed his face, smiling as she did so.

* * *

 **Jet Blue Flight 135  
** **Somewhere Over the Midwest  
** **Nace Bilby and Armando Arguilla  
** **29 March 2004, 2033**

"A Farewell to Arms?" Armando asked as Nace set the well worn, dog eared paperback onto the tray table on the seat in front of him.

"Yes," Nace replied as he sipped from a glass of water.

"I still don't see what you see in Hemingway," Armando groaned, "It was bad enough when I had to read his work in school."

"I'll admit his prose is a bit of an acquired taste," Nace replied, "However I do find Leftenant Fredrick Henry's story to be compelling. The fact that he was willing to toss it all for love, quite a lovely tale."

Armando smiled, "Bravo, Bilby, bravo. You've got a better sense of romance than I thought."

"I'm not exactly a eunuch, _boet_ ," Nace replied as he set his water glass down.

"Well," Armando said, "Honestly I think that helps a lot."

"How so?" Nace countered, turning fully to face his coworker.

"Well, I honestly didn't think you had a romantic bone in your body, amigo," Armando said, "I thought the South African Army removed it."

"You wanker," Nace grumbled.

"Well, you do tend to go into the weeds about the most obscure stuff. Like what was that one prehistoric sea monster you were talking about last week, Lio-something?" Armando replied.

" _Liopleurodon Ferox,_ a sea predator of the late Jurassic."

"That's what I was talking about," Armando replied.

Nace countered with a glare, "And I argue there are women who _like_ smart men."

"Women _do_ like smart men," Armando retorted, "But they _also_ don't want to feel like they're talking to a professor."

"Explain women that fall in love with teachers, then?" Nace countered.

"Alright, so do you think that ADA Borgia slept with her professor in law school?"

Nace's glare increased in intensity, "Armando, that is dangerous territory. I'll not have you impugn the lady's reputation."

"Touchy, touchy," Armando replied, raising both hands up, "So, let me rephrase that."

"Thank you," Nace replied brusquely.

"So what makes you think that ADA Borgia like smart men?" Armando asked.

"Well, there was the fact that when I talked to her she really appreciated my Macbeth reference," Nace countered.

"Okay," Armando said, "What were your signs, _other_ than her recognizing Macbeth."

"Well she smiled and asked me if all South African bomb disposal technicians can quote Shakespeare off the cuff," Nace replied.

"Hmm, well, it's still not a clear sign" Armando said, "I suppose I would have to have been there to watch her body language."

 _Good point,_ Nace thought to himself. _Armando could provide some good insights in that regard._

"Well, if nothing else I'd call it a promising sign that she does appreciate smart people," Nace replied.

"But does she find them attractive, that's the thing," Armando said.

"I suppose I shall find out," Nace replied tersely as he went back to his book.

Armando glanced over, seeing the bookmark Nace held between his fingers as he continued to read _A Farewell to Arms_. He took a closer look at it, noticing the words _Truth, Beauty, Freedom, Love_ were written on the laminated paper.

"Didn't know you were into that Bohemian movement," Armando replied.

"They did produce some good works, to include that _Moulin Rouge_ story," Nace commented.

"You are a hell of a lot more complicated than I thought," Armando said with a sigh.

"Hah," Nace replied with a wry grin.

"So what's the story about this mystery last date from six years ago?" Armando asked, grinning toothily.

"Honestly, _boet_ , it's not important," Nace replied before calmly adding, "Drop it."

* * *

 **Marshall Stack  
** **Lower Manhattan, NYC  
** **Alexandra Borgia and Jack McCoy  
** **29 March 2004, 2044**

Alexandra Borgia took a sip of her drink as Jack McCoy sat beside her with a drink of his own. McCoy took his seat, set his drink onto the bar and said,"I read your work on the money laundering case Storm and Bilby took on."

"I already gave Agents Storm and Bilby a heads up that we might want to talk to them," Alex replied, swiveling her seat around to look at McCoy.

"I looked over that piece about the window at _Going Out of Business_. We definitely will want further statements from Storm and Bilby," McCoy replied and with a wry grin added, "I can tell why he has the nickname 'Calamity'."

"He was trying to bodycheck the perp into the wall," Alex replied, taking a sip of her own drink, "He just mistimed it."

"Did you confirm that with Bilby?" McCoy said.

"I forgot to ask him," Alex said with a sigh.

"The defense is going to look for corroborating testimony," McCoy replied, "So Storm will be expected on the witness stand. But looking at the case, we might want Bilby there too."

"You're right, Jack," Alex replied, "I should've asked for his statement too. But he was twenty feet away collaring the other perp."

"Still, he probably observed something after he had the guy cuffed. I'll watch your drink," Jack began.

"And I'll try and give Bilby a call," Alexandra replied, reaching into her purse and pulling out her cell phone.

After stepping out of the smoky bar Alex dialed Nace's cell phone number. _At least he was nice enough to leave me his business card._

"You've reached Agent Nace Bilby, ACME Detective Agency and South African Citizen Militia Force. I am unable to answer the telephone at the moment, so please leave me your name, telephone number and a brief message following the beep and I'll sort you out as soon as I can."

With a frustrated sigh she groaned, "Straight to voicemail. It figures."

Following the beep Alex said, "Good evening, Agent Bilby, it's ADA Borgia. I need you to call me back for a statement."

She closed her cell phone and walked back into the bar. McCoy turned around as Alex headed back to her stool and drink.

"Went straight to voicemail," Alex said, as she sat down, "I left him a message. If I don't hear anything this weekend I'll go straight to ACME tomorrow morning to get a hold of him."

"Good idea," McCoy said as he took another pull of his drink.

* * *

 **ACME Field Office  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Alexandra Borgia and Deric Storm  
** **30 March 2004, 0915**

"Arizona?" Alex began as she walked with Deric Storm, "What do you mean by Arizona?"

"He got sent to Arizona with Agent Arguilla. Exactly where, couldn't tell ya, Counselor," Deric replied as they walked deeper into the building.

"Great," Alex quipped, "A gaucho with a propensity for flirting with anyone with two X-chromosomes and a South African who wires sirens into chairs. What could go wrong?"

"To be fair, Counselor," Deric replied, "Nace wouldn't have any reason to wire sirens into anything. Manny might still engage in his usual flirting."

"In other words, typical Armando," Alex replied, "On the bright side there isn't much out there they could inadvertently destroy. Not to mention you're not there either."

"Only in three cases was I actually responsible for any of the property damage that happened," Deric protested.

"Well I saw your file has a thick stack of commendations in addition to a dozen different cases of property damage," Alex replied, holding up the file in question for emphasis, "And it's now four cases where you're responsible for property damage."

"I'm sorry Nace isn't around," Deric replied, "I assume you tried calling him?"

"I tried last night but it went to voicemail," Alex replied as they walked up the stairs.

"He was in the air last night and he and Manny left for the Sonoran Desert early this morning," Deric explained.

"And in all likelihood their cell phone reception probably sucks out there, right?" Alex asked.

"Mostly," Deric said, "I tried to call Nace before you got here, I could _maybe_ make out every other word."

Alex sighed, "I suppose getting a hold of Nace soon isn't going to happen."

Deric glanced at his watch, "Wait half an hour, Nace said he'd try again then. You can wait in the conference room."

"Thank you, Agent Storm," Alex replied as she walked into the conference room.

Alex sat down in the conference room, setting her briefcase down before opening it and removing a legal pad. She started to write some notes on it when she saw Inspector Strickland walk into the conference room, his cell phone held against his left ear.

"Arguilla, say that again?" Strickland said.

Alex glanced upward as Strickland listened to Agent Arguilla's report. Strickland interjected, "Hey, Arguilla, stand by, I'm going to put you on speaker."

Strickland cupped the mouthpiece of his his phone, "ADA Borgia, what brings you here?"

"I was trying to get a hold of Agent Bilby, but apparently he's in Arizona with Arguilla," Alex replied.

"For what?" Strickland asked.

"That money laundering case he and Agent Storm took on last week. I need his statement," Alex replied, "Pertaining to the window of _Going Out of Business_."

"Alright, I can arrange that," Strickland replied, punching some buttons on a teleconference device on the conference room table.

"Alright Arguilla, start again from the top," Strickland said.

"Okay Boss," Armando began, "We found an old shed on Ms. Smithers' land that was locked with a rusty padlock. We cut the lock with the bolt cutters and Nace walked into it."

"Alright," Strickland said drumming his fingers on the table, "And then what?"

"Well, Nace went in only to back right out due to a lot of old dynamite," Armando said.

"How much old dynamite?" Strickland asked.

"Put it this way, Nace said, 'Oh bollocks' the second he walked in," Armando replied.

"Alright, Arguilla, I get it. Old dynamite found in the shed. However, 'Oh bollocks' isn't exactly a precise figure," Strickland said as he wrote several notes in his notebook.

"Boss, this is Bilby," Nace's voice echoed over the speaker, "Five cases of old dynamite. That's about 100 kilograms of explosives in there."

"Alright, what are you guys doing about it? Calling the fire department to move it?" Strickland asked.

"Boss, this is old dynamite. Meaning it's nitroglycerine based and if it's been sitting here for decades it's unstable as Hell. I'll have to destroy it in place," Nace replied.

"Agent Bilby, this ADA Borgia," Alex interjected, "What do you mean by 'destroy it in place'?"

"Exactly what it sounds like, counselor," Nace replied, "explode the dynamite _in situ_ versus attempt to move it. It's the safer option."

* * *

 **To Be Continued...**


	4. Part I: Ranchers and Sheds

**Part I: Ranchers and Sheds**

 **Disclaimer:** Same as before

* * *

 **Circle J Ranch  
** **Near South Bisbee, AZ  
** **Summer Smithers, Nace Bilby and Armando Arguilla  
** **30 March 2004, 0615**

Summer Smithers, the owner of the Circle J Ranch, flicked a strand of her long brown hair from her face as she walked with the two ACME agents. She pointed towards some slightly trampled desert brush, "Right around here."

"That's where you found the footprints?" Armando asked.

"Footprints? What kinds of reports are you getting in New York," Summer said, "I found pieces of a shoe."

"Discrepancies do happen on occasion," Nace replied, "Let us sort that out, ma'am."

The woman smiled and said, "For the last time, Nace, it's Summer, not ma'am. Ma'am makes me feel old."

"Sorry, force of habit." Nace replied brusquely.

The three of them continued to walk past the trampled brush and passed a rocky outcropping. As they continued to walk off the path Summer said, "Boys, be careful. There's an old mine here and some of the old shafts are hard to see."

"Thanks," Armando said.

The rancher and the two agents continued to walk until Nace turned to ask Summer, "What's in that old shed?"

Summer craned her neck, glancing around Nace's shoulder to look at the old shed. "I'm not sure, it's been around the property for as long as I can remember. No one's ever gone into it."

"Might be worth a look," Armando commented.

As they neared the shed Nace could tell that the structure was rather poorly maintained. The wood appeared to be near dessicated and part of the roof was falling off. A rusty padlock held the door shut.

"I'll go get the bolt cutters from the truck," Nace replied.

When Nace was out of earshot Summer turned to Armando, "Your Australian friend seems a bit on the all work and no play side."

" _Senorita_ , you don't know the half of it," Armando quipped, "And he's not Australian. He's South African."

She smiled at Armando, "And you seem like quite the hedonist."

Armando smiled, grinning toothily, "When the sun is down, certainly."

Summer smiled, "A gaucho hedonist and a law enforcement officer. You ACME types are interesting to say the least."

"Armando," Nace said, as he walked over, the bolt cutters carried across his left shoulder, "Cover me, I'm about to go in. Ma...I mean, Summer, stay behind him."

"A real take charge sort of character," Summer said, "I like that in a man."

 _Oh for fuck's sake_. Nace thought as he walked up the trail towards the shed. _The last thing I need to deal with is an amorous middle aged rancher._

Nace glanced over his shoulder, noticing that Ms. Smithers was sticking very close to Armando indeed. _And as usual Armando's probably working an angle for after this case…_

Nace attacked the lock with the bolt cutters before pushing the door open. He could smell the odor of dry rot. A couple pieces of old canvas balled up in the corner. Two shelves were backed against the walls and were mostly bare of anything save layers of dust and cobwebs. There were five dust covered wooden boxes near the bottom shelves.

Cobwebs and dust made identifying what was in the boxes hard. Nace dropped his small backpack and reached inside for a can of compressed air.

He sprayed it against one box, sneezing as dust and cobwebs floated away. As the dust settled Nace's eyes settled on the label.

 **Atlas Powder Co.  
** **Wilmington, Delaware  
** **High Explosives  
** **Dangerous**

"Oh bollocks!" Nace exclaimed, backing out of the shed immediately and colliding with Armando.

"Nace, what's going on in there?" Armando asked.

Nace turned around and as calmly as he could muster he said, "Get back from the shed. Towards that cluster of rocks about 600 meters away."

"Why, what's in there?" Summer asked, stepping forward, only for Armando's arm to block her path.

"Five boxes of old dynamite, hasn't been moved in decades," Nace replied, "And if the old labels are anything to go by it's probably unstable as anything."

"Santa Maria!" Armando exclaimed, eyes going wide. He glanced behind him, and realized his hand was cupped over Summer's right breast.

"Wow, can't you wait?" Summer smiled.

"For fucks sake, the both of you get back!" Nace exclaimed with irritation.

" _Carajo,_ Nace, we're going," Armando said, removing his hand off of Summer's chest.

"Right, I'm going back inside to take another look," Nace replied, rolling his eyes as he saw Summer whisper something into Armando's ear.

"Why?" Armando asked.

"In case this bloody thing goes up it's best only one of us goes boom as opposed to all three of us."

"Good point, _amigo_ ," Armando said, "I'll be sure to let ADA Borgia know of your interest if it does go boom."

"You wanker," Nace replied, "We might want to give the Phoenix office a sitrep about this posthaste."

"Good point, I'll also give Strickland a heads up," Armando replied.

* * *

 **ACME Field Office  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Inspector Strickland and ADA Borgia  
** **30 March 2004, 1022**

"Exactly what it sounds like, counselor," Nace replied, "explode the dynamite _in situ_ versus attempt to move it. It's the safer option."

"Alright, Bilby, I assume you're already working this through the Phoenix office?" Strickland asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose with thumb and index finger. _I feel a headache coming on._

"Right, Boss, Armando's sorting that matter out," Nace replied.

"Okay, why is attempting to move the dynamite so ill advised?" Alex asked.

"Well, counselor," Nace replied, "the recommended shelf-life for nitroglycerin based explosives like dynamite is one year. I estimate this lot's been sitting about for a few decades. Over time dynamite begins to 'weep' or 'sweat' causing nitroglycerin to pool and crystallize at the bottom of the box. This makes this entire case a lot more heat, friction and shock sensitive."

Alex wrote down her notes on her legal pad. _So that shed is in danger of going boom because of poorly stored old dynamite._

"Alright," Alex said, "Thanks for the explanation. I'll be sure to include it in my report."

Strickland interjected, "Bilby, so what coordination is being made?"

"Boss, Armando's sorting out fire department and police via the Phoenix Field Office, to include my request for five blocks of C4, ten blasting caps, 1000 meters of detonation cord, and two fuse igniters," Nace replied.

"Agent Bilby," Alex began, "why, exactly, do you need all of that explosive material?"

"As stated, counselor," Nace replied, "I require all of this to destroy 100 kilograms of dynamite _in situ._ "

"Alright," Alex replied, "Agent Bilby, please explain _how_ you intend to get rid of 100 kilograms of unstable dynamite with what you're requesting."

"A sympathetic detonation. If I detonate the charges simultaneously, setting them against the dynamite boxes the subsequent blast will trigger the unstable dynamite to explode as well. Thus destroying it in place," Nace replied.

"So one explosion will cause another to get rid of the dynamite?" Alex asked.

"Precisely, counselor," Nace replied, "My report will include all of these explanations, of course. And my diagrams the charges and the lot."

Alex clicked her pen a few times, thinking. _One hundred kilograms, roughly 220 lbs...Holy shit!_

"Agent Bilby, what precautions are you taking to avoid collateral damage?" Alex asked just after the conversion registered in her mind.

"Well counselor," Nace replied, "Based on the amount of explosives in the shed I've got the standoff distance of a 600 meter radius sorted out. We'll let the emergency services types know this as well."

 _I can see Agent Storm isn't the only ACME Agent who has cases where property destruction is a feature,_ Alex thought to herself.

"Bilby, keep the preparations going, but stand by to brief Randall. I'm bringing him over," Strickland interrupted.

"Yes sir," the South African replied.

Alex scribbled down notes as fast as she could think. _McCoy is not going to believe_ _ **this.**_

Then she heard the sound of her cell phone ringing in her purse. Reaching down she picked up her purse and fished her phone out of its contents. A quick glance at the display told her it was McCoy.

"Hello. Look, McCoy, I'm a little busy right now," Alex said, leaning back in her chair, "With what? Well, for starters I'm on a conference call with Agent Bilby to get his statement. What do you mean how long does it take to get a statement? Unfortunately he's a bit delayed right now because he's in the middle of attempting to blow up 220 pounds worth of dynamite."

After a few minutes Alex added, "Yes, you heard me right. It's old, 'weeping' dynamite. So the safest way to get rid of it is explode it _in situ._ Yes, that's what I mean. He's going to blow it all up. Yes, we'll have his report. Yes I'll personally make sure he gives it to me. Alright. Thanks."

Alex hung up, and with a sigh, closed her cell phone. She saw Chief Inspector Roy Randall followed by a balding man, with brown hair and eyes walking into the room.

"ADA Borgia," Randall said with a polite smile, "This is Bill Hudson, from our legal office."

Alex stood up, shaking Hudson's proffered hand, "Alex."

"Bill," the man said, "So I see we've got yet another case with this team of detectives where property damage results. Haha."

 _Okay. This guy's a little high strung._ Alex thought. _That's a nervous tic if I ever heard one._

"Well, at least Storm isn't responsible for _this_ one. Haha." Hudson said, with his trademark nervous laugh, "He tends to generate the vast majority of my paperwork."

"He also has a stack of commendations thicker than said paperwork," Randall said, "Only in four cases was he actually responsible for the property damage he was accused of."

"And what about the other eight?" Alex replied.

"The suspects he was pursuing caused said damage," Randall replied.

"I've got some homework for Bilby's case. Haha," Hudson said, "Agent Bilby, it's Hudson. How much explosive did you say is in the shed."

"Like I said earlier, 100 kilograms. That's 220 pounds for you Yanks…" Nace replied.

"Dear God…" Hudson groaned.

* * *

 **ACME Field Office  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Deric Storm and Ivy Darren Storm  
** **30 March 2004, 1105**

"Deric, what's going on the conference room?" Ivy asked as she walked into the office.

"ADA Borgia was trying get a hold of Nace over that perp we collared from the money laundering operation," Deric began, "She's just waiting in there for Nace to call in half an hour."

"Well, looks like your boy's become pretty popular," Ivy said, eliciting a confused look from her husband. "Strickland, Randall, and Hudson are in there as well," Ivy replied as she walked over to her desk and logged back into her computer.

"Googly, that's a lot of people wanting a statement from Nace over an arrest," Deric said.

"I don't think it's an arrest statement," Ivy said, "I happened to have walked by when Strickland ran down Hudson. He was talking about dynamite. Runny dynamite."

"How much?" Deric asked, eyebrows raised.

"I think 220 lbs," Ivy said.

Deric let out a low whistle. "Wow, for once I won't get blamed for property damage."

* * *

 **Circle J Ranch  
** **Near South Bisdee, AZ  
** **Summer Smithers, Nace Bilby and Armando Arguilla  
** **30 March 2004, 0905**

He heard Armando speaking in a low voice over the phone, "Boss, we've got the incident control point set up and cordon in place. Request permission to dispatch EOD."

Armando received permission from the Phoenix office to do so and gestured to Nace. _Right, the long walk._

"This is EOD," Nace spoke into the microphone of the radio headset, "acknowledged and moving forward."

The long walk. Bomb disposal operators, no matter what their nation of origin, are familiar with these three words. He hefted the backpack on his shoulders that had his requested explosive supplies and a toolkit with various hand tools.

"Passing 100 meters," Nace spoke into the radio, providing running commentary.

Closing his eyes he crossed himself saying a silent Our Father before taking that first step towards the shed. Scanning the ground ahead and the brush. Always good to scan for secondary devices, however unlikely.

 _Complacency leads to death._ Nace thought, remembering his training, as he continued his trip towards the shed. _Always look for secondary devices._

"I am at the shed, preparing to emplace charges," Nace replied.

He reached the shed, setting down the backpack with the blocks of C4, blasting caps, and spool of detonating cord. He pulled the baseball cap off his head, fanning himself briefly with it before putting it back on.

He took each block of C4, priming it with blasting caps before wiring them into the detonation cord.

"Charges primed," Nace replied, slowing backing out of the shed, unspooling the detonation cord as he went.

He connected the fuse igniter to the firing circuit. Now all that was left was a hard twist and pull. _Right,_ Nace thought, running through every action he had carried out. _Ensure that nothing is crossed. Can't have a break in the firing circuit because I'll now have more live explosive to sort out._

"Ready?" Armando called from near the cordon.

Nace gave a thumb's up, looking at Armando, speaking into his cell phone, talking on his conference call with both the New York and Phoenix Field Offices. Armando turned around and gave a thumbs up.

Nace crossed himself again before shouting, "Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole!"

At the third 'Fire in the hole' Nace pulled and twisted the metal ring on the fuse igniter.

BOOM!

The shed exploded. Pieces of timber, scraps of metal, and debris flew into the air before landing on the desert hard pack.

" _Carajo!_ " Armando exclaimed as the miniature mushroom cloud of the shed's explosion spread.

"So what now?" Summer Smithers asked.

"Well, we have to make our report," Armando said as Nace walked up to them, "We'll make a recommendation that you receive a warning for improper storage of explosives."

"Thank you," Summer said, "So what's next for you gentlemen?"

"In all probabilities a considerable amount of paperwork," Nace replied just as his cell phone rang.

"Agent Bilby," Nace answered the phone, despite himself he smiled slightly when he heard the voice on the other side.

"Right, counselor, I'll have to call you back," Nace replied, "Look, the hotel's got better reception. I am not blowing you off, as I honestly don't have any other plans but the considerable amount of paperwork I've got to sort out."

"If I didn't know better," Summer remarked, "I'd swear your friend's got a thing for whoever's on the other side of the line."

"You'd be right, _senorita_ ," Armando replied.

* * *

 **District Attorney's Office  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Alexandra Borgia and Jack McCoy  
** **30 March 2004, 1233**

With a sigh Alexandra Borgia closed her cell phone. That had been one interesting morning to say the least. _I'm beginning to think getting a statement from Agent Bilby over Agent Storm's destroying that window at Going Out of Business is going to be a fool's errand at this rate._

She walked into the building only to run into McCoy in the lobby, "You got Bilby's statement?"

"McCoy, I'll get it later today," Alex replied, making for the elevator.

McCoy followed her, noticing she was walking like a woman on a mission, "I assume that shed full of dynamite meant his statement was a bit delayed."

"He'll call me back later," Alex replied, with a frustrated sigh, "Meanwhile I've got yet another report to file."

"Over that dynamite conference call," McCoy quipped.

"Ha ha," Alex replied, "I never expected I'd get a mini-lecture on explosives this morning."

"That is Bilby's area of expertise," McCoy replied.

"And I'm probably going to associate the words _in situ_ with explosions for a while," Alex replied. _And not to mention with a certain Shakespeare quoting South African bomb disposal expert._

"Alex?" McCoy asked.

"Sorry, I was thinking of something," Alex replied as the elevator stopped on their floor.

"What was it?" McCoy asked.

"Oh, just wondering what reference to Shakespeare Nace might throw in with his statement," Alex replied.

"I doubt he was reciting lines from _Hamlet_ while he was destroying that unstable dynamite in place," McCoy quipped as they walked out of the elevator.

"Somehow I think lines from _Henry V_ would be more appropriate," Alex replied as she walked over to her office.

"Good point, 'Once more into the breach' sounds a bit more appropriate," McCoy replied, "As far as Agent Bilby's report…"

"I'll get it from him when he actually writes it. And I'll remind him about it when he calls back," Alex replied, sitting down at her desk and logging back into her computer.

"Good, Branch is going to want to see it," McCoy replied, "Along with your report."

With a sigh, Alex replied, "I'll get started on that, just let Branch know that I won't have Nace's in hand until he actually finishes the thing and gives it to his superiors."

"I can do that," McCoy replied.

"Thanks," Alex replied as she started to work on her report. After about an hour she heard her desktop phone ring.

"ADA Borgia," she answered it, "Good afternoon, Agent Bilby, I was expecting your call. I'm actually in the middle of writing my report about the shed incident."

She listened to Nace's response before adding, "Do you think you could stay on the line for a while and answer a couple of my questions? Thank you…"

* * *

TBC


	5. Part I: Reports, Lectures, and Profiles

**Part I: Reports, Lectures, and Profiles**

 **Disclaimer:** Same as before.

 **Author's Note:** The characters of Ryan Summers and Cassie Forbes are creations of my friend NoLeafClover.

* * *

 **ACME Field Office  
Manhattan, NYC  
ADA Borgia and Agent Storm  
05 April 2004, 0833**

Alexandra Borgia walked up the stairs and to the large open area affectionately referred to as 'the Bullpen' by various ACME Agents.

"Agent Bilby's desk is that way," Becky, the blonde haired, bespectacled receptionist said.

"Thank you," Alex said with a smile. She headed to one of the cubicle partitions with four desks.

She looked from one desk to the other, looking at the photographs and other items on the desks, quickly figuring out whose desk was whose. The one with the miniature Argentine flag, photographs of its owner sitting astride a thoroughbred as well as a two men, and two women in their Sunday best was clearly Armando's. The desk to the right of it was definitely Ivy's as it had a framed photograph of Ivy with a shorter blond haired man and another photo of Ivy and Deric in mid kiss. The next desk over had a photo of Deric and Ivy in hiking attire overlooking a coastline as well as Deric wearing the cap and gown of a college graduate with two older people. The last desk on the right had a photograph of three men in camouflage, only one she recognized as a younger Nace carrying a long, telescope sighted rifle as well as a small statue in bronze of a knight trampling a massive striking cobra underfoot while aiming his lance at the cobra's head.

Alex took a closer look at the knight, as there was small placard at the statue's base. Her eyes narrowed with recognition at the words: **"He Today That Sheds His Blood With Me Shall Be My Brother, Be He Ne'er So Vile This Day Shall Gentle His Condition."**

 _The St. Crispin Speech from Henry V._ Alex thought. _That figure is vaguely St. George-like but I don't recognize the knight's coat of arms at all._

"Creeping around our desks, counselor?" a voice from behind her and to the left said.

Alex turned around to see Agent Storm standing behind her. She turned to face him, "No, just looking to talk to Nace about his report. Branch has been wanting to see his report on the shed incident."

"You _just_ missed him, counselor," Deric said, "He's teaching the critical thinking module to the probies downstairs."

"Deric, Counselor," Armando said as he slipped past them to his desk. The Argentine logged onto his computer and began to read through his emails.

"Thank you, Deric, I'll head downstairs and…" Alex replied only to be cut off by the sound of a pop of compressed air escaping.

"What was that?" Alex asked, eyes going wide.

Armando looked up and rolled his eyes, " _Carajo_ , I knew there was something up when I saw Dingo come in early with a big box from Radio Shack under his arm."

"Dingo?" Alex asked.

"Evidently some rancher in Arizona mistook Nace for an Australian," Armando said, "That's why we all started calling him Dingo."

"Manny, you mean your long distance fling?" Deric quipped, "And besides you're the only one who calls him Dingo."

Armando's face reddened, "Let me guess, Nace told you?"

"He didn't have to tell me," Deric replied, "I know how you operate. Didn't know you were a cougar hunter though."

"Alright, amorous older women and nicknames aside shouldn't we find out what Nace created downstairs and…" Alex replied only for the strains of the song Footloose to echo from downstairs.

"Oh, googly..." Deric groaned.

"At least she didn't activate a siren this time," Armando quipped, standing up from his desk.

"I think I preferred the siren," Deric deadpanned.

"I think I'd better head downstairs before Strickland goes there to give Nace an earful," Alex quipped, "If that happens I'll have yet another delay in getting his report."

* * *

 **ACME Field Office  
Manhattan, NYC  
Probationary Agents and Nace Bilby  
05 April 2004, 0848**

Probationary Agents Ryan Summers and Cassie Forbes approached the classroom to see that the metal trash can was lying on one side near the front and center of the room and that their instructor for this class, Agent Nace Bilby, sitting behind the instructor's desk, taking some notes in his pocket notebook.

"What's going on?" Cassie turned to ask Ryan, "Agent Bilby never leaves the classroom looking untidy like that."

"I'm not sure," Ryan said, as he walked into the classroom, "maybe Maintenance forgot to clean in here and he's just making notes for a report?"

As he walked forward, Ryan had no idea he was about to trigger a booby trap. In this case walking through the door caused him to break a beam on a laser sensor Nace taped inside the door. This was wired to a battery which would fire a mechanism that would cause compressed air to be released into two cardboard tubes aimed right at the classroom door sending confetti flying at Ryan.

*POP!*

"What the..." Ryan exclaimed, eyes going wide as he found himself covered in confetti of varying colors.

"What was that!?" Cassie exclaimed. She noticed Nace hadn't even moved, he was still making notes.

"I don't think there's anything else in those cardboard tubes," Ryan said, as he peered inside them, "But you might want to jump over the laser beam. Or duck under it."

"Duck under it?" Cassie replied, "Do I look like Catherine Zeta-Jones, Ryan?"

Cassie stepped gingerly over the top of the beam's path with one foot and then the other. Then she walked towards the trashcan, noticing Nace didn't even blink.

She turned the trashcan upright only to trigger a mercury tilt switch. It closed an electrical circuit that activated a CD player connected to a large speaker inside the garbage can. The opening notes of the song _Footloose_ echoed into the room. Cassie jumped backward with a yelp of surprise.

"What's going on in here?" Matt began as he walked in with the other two probationary agents.

"Apparently, Agent Bilby is a sadist," Ryan quipped, trying to jostle some of the confetti out of his hair.

"Okay, why is the song _Footloose_ playing at full volume?" Matt asked.

"That's due to a mercury tilt switch having closed an electrical circuit wired into a CD player," Nace replied, "It's also connected to a speaker."

Nace walked over and disconnected the CD player, "Right, get settled in and I'll explain everything."

He waited until this was the case, seeing the students getting behind their individual places. There were printed handouts on critical thinking and a written practical exercise.

As he turned the trashcan upright he said, "Now then. This is your practical introduction to critical thinking. A vital aspect in your line of works as agents in ACME. One can sum up critical thinking in one sentence, 'Always sort out why'."

Cassie's hand went up and Nace turned to face her, "Yes?"

"So what was with the confetti and the CD player?" Cassie asked.

"Ms. Forbes, I am glad you asked," Nace replied, "Critical thinking is also important in my other line of work, that of an EOD technician. It's always asking why and more importantly the correct why, if you will."

Ryan raised his hand and Nace turned to address him.

"So was this something you ran across?" Ryan asked.

"Yes, actually," Nace replied, "In my training as a bomb disposal operator I encountered a similar situation. That is what we call a 'come on' in our parlance. Usually it's fairly obvious, it could be a hoax. Or it could be booby trapped in and of itself. That brings back my other point, 'always ask why and more importantly the correct why'. That is the basis of critical thinking and thus something invaluable in your line of work as ACME agents."

He smiled faintly, "I'll admit this example was a bit on the unusual side, but I do want to impress the value of critical thinking home to the lot of you. I want to see all five of you go on and have long successful careers in law enforcement."

Nace glanced over one shoulder as he spoke, noticing Deric standing in the doorway in company with Alex.

"Right, now I want you to go over the practical exercise in your handouts, I've got something to get sorted out," Nace replied.

He walked into the hallway as Deric gave him a wry grin, "You do know you don't have to booby trap every room you teach in?"

"In this case, bru, I thought a concrete example would be best," Nace replied.

"Alright, concrete examples aside, ADA Borgia is here to talk to you about the shed in Arizona," Deric said, before he headed back upstairs, leaving the two of them standing in the hallway.

"Thank you, Deric. This shouldn't take too long," Nace replied.

 _Riiiight_. Deric thought before replying, "I'll keep an eye on the students."

"Thank you," Nace replied before turning to address Alex, "Good morning, counselor. I take it you're here for my report?"

"Yes, actually," Alex said, and with a smirk she added, "I'm beginning to think you've probably got the most unique teaching methods I've ever heard of."

 _Not to mention I'm going to have the song Footloose stuck in my head all day._ Alex thought.

Nace felt himself redden slightly, "Well, had I known that the District Attorney's office would be paying me a visit, I probably might not have rigged the classroom the way I did."

"Well," Alex said, with a small smile, "You did already set the bar high with the siren."

"And as I stated you weren't the intended target, counselor," Nace quipped.

"I think you already made that point clear, Agent Bilby," Alex replied.

"Right, I do have the file upstairs. It's in my desk drawer," Nace replied.

"Lay on, Macduff," Alex replied, with a smile.

"Very good, counselor," Nace grinned.

"Now we're even for Macbeth references," Alex smirked.

The two of them walked to the stairs and up towards the bullpen. As they did so Cassie turned to Ryan, "Did you see that?"

"What," Ryan said, still trying to flick stray pieces of confetti out of his hair. "Agent Bilby talking to ADA Borgia?"

"Did you see him? He was totally flirting with her," Cassie whispered to Ryan.

"No way," Ryan said, shaking his head, "there's just no _way_. I think he was just being polite."

"Please," Cassie smirked, "That wasn't just polite. He _definitely_ likes her."

"C'mon, the guy's a complete loner…" Ryan said, disbelief creasing his features.

"That doesn't mean he's not human," Cassie replied.

"I beg to differ," Ryan countered, leaning in closer to Cassie to whisper, "So where is your evidence?"

"Did you see how he went red early in the conversation?" Cassie began.

"He could've easily gotten embarrassed by her stumbling across his crazy practical example of critical thinking," Ryan groaned.

Cassie giggled slightly, "You're still miffed over the compressed air confetti cannons?"

"A bit, but I still am not convinced that Agent _Bilby_ of all people has a thing for an ADA," Ryan said, "I don't think he's the type…"

"Did you see him grin at the end?" Cassie said, grabbing Ryan's forearm.

"Ahem," Deric said from behind the two students. He leaned over, speaking softly but firmly to both of them, "I believe Agent Bilby had you working on something. Less gossip, more learning."

"Yes, Agent Storm," Ryan said.

Cassie nodded as well, hastily letting go of Ryan's forearm. _There's gotta be something going on with Agent Bilby and ADA Borgia._

* * *

 **District Attorney's Office  
Manhattan, NYC  
ADA Borgia and EADA McCoy  
05 April 2004, 1002**

As the elevator headed towards her floor Alexandra Borgia found herself thinking. _Great, thanks to Agent Bilby I'm going to have the song Footloose stuck in my head all day._

The elevator reached her floor and Alex stepped out, running into McCoy almost immediately.

"I got Bilby's report on the shed incident," Alex began, handing the report to McCoy.

"Thanks," McCoy said as they walked towards their offices. As they walked McCoy noticed Alex softly humming a tune.

"Something on your mind, Alex?" McCoy asked with a smirk.

"Huh?" Alex exclaimed.

"You were humming the tune to Footloose just now," McCoy said.

"Oh," Alex replied, reddening slightly, "I just stumbled across one of Agent Bilby's crazy teaching methods."

"What did he do this time?" McCoy asked.

"Evidently he wired a proximity sensor into the doorway of the classroom using a garage door sensor connected to a battery and a pair of compressed air cylinders inside cardboard tubes stuffed with confetti," Alex replied.

"So he made a pair of confetti canons," McCoy said, "that probably covered the unfortunate who walked into the room in shredded colored paper. Still doesn't explain how you've got the song _Footloose_ on your mind."

With a huff Alex said, "Will you let me finish?"

"Alright, what else?" McCoy replied.

"Well he had the trash can turned on one side. And inside it he had a CD player connected to a portable speaker, a mercury tilt switch," Alex explained.

"Mercury tilt switch?" McCoy asked.

"Usually they're found in construction equipment to warn of rollovers or for lighting controls in cars. In this case Nace used it as the trigger to turn the CD player on if the trashcan was jostled," Alex replied, as she walked into her office and sat down behind her desk.

"How do you know all this?" McCoy asked as stood beside her desk, arms folded over his chest and one eyebrow raised.

"First off, I heard the aftereffects of both devices when I was upstairs in their office area," Alex replied, "And second, Nace explained all this to me."

"It certainly explains why you've got _Footloose_ stuck in your head," McCoy grinned, "It could have been worse."

"How?" Alex asked, with a quirk of her eyebrows.

"He could have used the song _Wipeout_ ," McCoy smirked, "Or the _Jitterbug_."

With a smirk Alex quipped, "Thanks, Jack, I didn't need either of those songs stuck in my head."

"You're welcome," McCoy replied.

 _It **was** worth it, though, to see Strickland start humming Footloose before hastily stopping himself._ Alex thought, with a smirk as she logged onto her computer.

* * *

 **ACME Field Office  
Manhattan, NYC  
Deric, Armando, Ivy, and Nace  
05 April 2004, 1233**

Nace Bilby walked into the cafeteria carrying his tray of food and took his customary seat with Deric, Ivy, and Armando.

"Googly, Bilbs, what was _that_ all about?" Deric asked, as he unwrapped his sandwich.

"As I told Strickland five minutes ago, a concrete example of critical thinking," Nace replied, taking his seat, "The syllabus did say to be creative and show a concrete example of critical thinking after all."

"And somewhere along the line you decided to create a compressed air powered confetti canon triggered by a garage door safety mechanism and a CD player playing an extremely annoying oldies song triggered by a mercury tilt switch," Ivy replied as she stuck a fork into her salad.

"You know, pop quizzes work just as well," Deric added.

"Right," Nace replied.

"You also might want to keep in mind that one of the trainees could get hurt accidentally," Ivy added.

"I'll keep that in mind," Nace replied, "After all I'd just had a bit of a discussion with Strickland over my methods."

"You know, Bilbs, if Mattie the Narcoleptic as you keep calling him continues to fall asleep in class we can always request a disciplinary meeting," Deric began.

"Right, however, I'd rather sort the matter out at our level. No need to get the brass involved," Nace replied, pouring creamer into his coffee cup.

"Hate to say it, Bilbs, but Sirengate and now Footloose Confetti _did_ get Strickland involved," Deric said.

"It was worth it though to see Strickland humming the tune to _Footloose_ ," Armando smirked as he took a bite of his sandwich.

"No way," Ivy replied, incredulous, "Strickland? Captain Killjoy himself? Humming a tune? There's just no way."

"We did both see it, Ivy," Nace replied, calmly taking a sip from his cup of coffee.

"You actually were paying attention to something _other_ than Borgia?" Deric said, a smirk forming. "I'll be damned, you really CAN multitask."

At this Nace coughed as some coffee went down the wrong way. He felt Armando slapping him on the back.

"You wanker!" Nace replied as soon as he was able to speak.

"Well you do pay a _lot_ of attention whenever she walks into a room," Armando replied, with a smirk of his own.

"Well, being able to concentrate on things is an essential trait in both my lines of work," Nace countered.

"She's a woman, not a bomb you're disarming," Armando commented.

"Armando, given how short your relationships are and how some of them end I'm not sure you should use that metaphor," Ivy added.

"Hey!" Armando protested.

"They do have explosive endings," Ivy replied with a smirk.

"Monica was three months ago!" Armando yelped.

"I do recall Deric having told me about how she did set fire to every gift you gave her," Nace observed, "Though I wouldn't call that explosive. More incendiary."

"Red, don't use explosive metaphors around Nace unless you want a mini-lecture on things that go boom," Deric groaned.

"That was an interesting ending for a relationship if I ever heard one," Ivy said, shooting a glare at Deric.

"Actually, Ivy, a better anecdote for explosive endings was when Melanie strapped several model rocket engines to that teddy bear Armando gave her and launched it over the Hudson River," Nace replied.

"Hey!" Armando protested.

"That's what happens when you date two women at the same time and they find out Manny," Deric chuckled.

"That sounds like a sodding powder keg if I've ever seen one," Nace replied, "Especially when one considers both Melanie and Monica's reactions. If one just thinks of Monica's reaction, then it's just an incendiary ending."

"Argue semantics much?" Ivy replied.

"Well he does tend to get 'sidetracked' where a certain ADA is concerned," Deric quipped.

"Hey…" Nace replied, starting to turn red.

"Who volunteered to drop of a file at the DA's office last week?" Deric smirked.

"First off they did need our case file from the money launderers," Nace protested.

"It did result in the longest paperwork delivery in history," Armando interjected.

"Not to mention this guy flirting with ADA Borgia," Deric said, "So ask her out already."

"I plan to do so," Nace replied.

"Okay, when?" Deric asked.

"Soon," Nace said, "Just sorting out some reconnaissance before waiting for the opportune moment."

"Googly, Bilbs, you're asking a woman out on a date not disarming a bomb or sniping enemy soldiers," Deric said.

"Timing is always a good thing to consider," Nace countered before stifling a yawn.

"There's also the saying: shit or get off the pot," Deric smirked.

"I don't know, earlier just felt a bit...off," Nace replied.

"Good call," Armando replied, "Especially with Strickland walking into the bullpen after we all heard him humming _Footloose_. Not the best time to ask someone out."

"I can picture Captain Killjoy giving Nace an earful if he overheard him asking Borgia out," Ivy said with a slight laugh.

"He'd probably say something to the effect of, 'find a date on your own time, Bilby'," Nace quipped.

"He'd probably whip out a pen and write the reprimand on the spot," Armando replied.

"Classic Strickland," Deric said with a smirk.

"Right, I do have practical exercises to grade and to sort out a first date. In that order," Nace replied, finishing his meal and heading back towards the bullpen.

* * *

TBC


	6. Part I: Nightmares and Questions

**Part I: Nightmares, Rehearsals and Questions**

 **Disclaimer:** Same as before…

 _Laager_ \- Afrikaans term for an improvised military encampment. Typically vehicles will form a circle or other perimeter.

* * *

 **Vicinity of the High Veldt Line  
** **North of Praetoria, South Africa  
** **Nace Bilby and Benjamin Vaas  
** **22 September 1999, 1747**

 _Iron Grenadiers. One of Cobra elite units._ Lance Corporal Nace Bilby thought as he observed two men walking away from their _laager_. Thanks to the telescopic sight on the Remington 700 sniper rifle he could just make out the dagger and skull insignia on the collar of one of the men.

"Officers," Lance Corporal Benjamin 'Baz' Vaas whispered from Nace's left side, looking through a powerful spotting telescope set on a tripod.

"Right," Nace replied, looking through the telescopic sight, noticing the map case hanging off the right hip of one of the two men, confirming Baz's observation.

Nace watched as both men removed their helmets and set them on the ground to one side. _They think they're in safe territory. But I'm about to show them that's definitely not the case._

"Range, 1507 meters," Baz said softly.

 _Within the maximum effective range of a .338 Lapua round._ Nace thought. He could see the angle at which the rain was falling. _Aim off slightly, due to the breeze._

Nace noticed the Caucasian features of the two men. One of them had tousled red hair and the other had fairly neat blond hair. The blond haired man finger combed his sweaty hair with one hand as he talked to his red haired teammate.

 _One of these two men will be dead within the next sixty seconds._ Nace thought to himself.

The two men over one and a half kilometers from the hide site continued to chat and the red haired fellow pulled out a cigarette pack and a lighter. He handed a cigarette to his friend and with one hand shielding the other he attempted to strike his lighter.

 _Baz should have the calculations done soon. That means pick the bloody target._ Nace thought to himself, looking through the scope's aperture, sorting out his point of aim.

The red haired man handed the lighter to the blond haired man, irritation creasing his features. The blond haired man was having a go at getting the lighter going. With a frown he handed it off to his friend. The men continued passing the lighter between them, attempting to ignite the spark to light their cigarettes in the rain.

 _Right. The first bloke to spark the lighter gets the bullet._ Nace thought himself.

"Fire. Fire. Fire." Baz said softly.

 _Breeze seems to be dying a bit. Best adjust aim._ Nace thought.

Nace watched as the red haired fellow ignited the lighter, centering his crosshairs on the man's nose. Breathing in and flicking the safety off of the Remington. Exhaling as he pressed the trigger, taking the slack out first.

CRACK!

The Remington bucked, sending a single .338 Lapua round flying at high speed towards the red haired man. Nace watched the bullet strike home, and the red haired Iron Grenadier officer telescope towards the ground, eyes frozen in surprise.

He saw the horrified look on the blond haired officer's face, as the blood and grey matter of his colleague splattered him.

 _I could shoot him down easily. But if I do I could get pinpointed and get shot myself._ Nace thought as he slowly drew the bolt back, extracting the empty casing from the Remington. He stuffed the brass casing into the cargo pocket on his right pants leg.

He put the rifle on safe and folded the bipod of the Remington before putting the rifle into a soft case. He prepared to sling the rifle over one shoulder before he grabbed his R5 assault rifle.

He watched as Baz dug a hole near the entrance of the hide site they had dug into the ground. Nace reached into his backpack, pulling out a PMN antipersonnel mine.

 _This is in case our Cobra friends want to check this place out._ Nace thought to himself as he screwed an anti-lift device into the fuze well of the mine. He pulled the safety away before placing the mine into the hole and placing dirt over the top of the mine, concealing it from view.

 _Even if their EOD blokes find the mine, if they try to dig it out and remove it, it will explode._ Nace thought grimly, thinking of the standard procedure of his team to booby trap old sniper hides.

He slung his rucksack and the sniper rifle on his shoulders, grunting under the weight before adjusting his grip on the R5 rifle and marching off into the rain...

* * *

 **Nace's Apartment  
** **Staten Island, NYC  
** **Nace Bilby  
** **06 April 2004, 0343**

Nace sat up in bed, blinking his eyes before glancing around his darkened bedroom, hearing the sounds of early morning Staten Island outside the window. He glanced down at his sleeping puppy.

He stood up, walking out of his bedroom across the hall to the bathroom. He turned the sink on before he looked up. For a brief instant he didn't see his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. The face that stared back at him, head topped by red, tousled hair, sported a bullet hole just above the upper lip. It was the face of the Iron Grenadier officer he had killed north of Praetoria many years ago.

As the apparition brought on by sleep deprivation faded, being replaced by his own reflection Nace splashed his face with cold water.

"Bollocks to this!" Nace sputtered, rubbing his eyes. There was just no way he was going to even attempt returning to sleep now.

He walked back into the bedroom just in time to see Goliath sit up from his doggie bed on the floor. The German Shepherd puppy cocked his head to one side with a slight whine.

"It's a bit early for your walk," Nace said softly, "But we'll go out in an hour or so."

Goliath barked before following Nace into the living room towards the bookshelf. Nace reached up, where he'd placed his books out of the reach of puppy teeth and pulled down a random book.

 _Dante's the Divine Comedy, how appropriate._ Nace thought before suppressing a yawn and sitting on the sofa.

It was after reading a few Cantos of _Inferno_ that Nace felt the hair on the back of his neck rising. He stuck the book onto the shelf before he heard the soft whine from near the foot of the sofa.

"Right, Goliath," Nace said, "Let's sort out your walk."

Goliath barked excitedly as Nace fastened his leash, taking his puppy outside for a walk.

* * *

 **ACME Field Office  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Nace Bilby and Deric Storm  
** **06 April 2004, 0548**

Nace Bilby gripped the heavy metal bar, making a minor adjustment to his hand placement as he dropped his bodyweight low. He tensed his muscles, holding a deep breath before standing up, coming to a stop. He guided the bar back down to the lifting platform before resetting and making the second rep.

Once he finished that rep he set the bar down, standing up before calmly walking from the lifting platform to the water fountain.

"Getting it in early, Bilbs?" Came a voice from just inside the gym locker room.

"Thought I'd get an early start on the day," Nace replied before taking a sip of water.

"Nice," Deric said as he stepped out of the locker room, "Thought I'd get a bit of work on the heavy bag."

"Just did some bench presses and deadlifts myself," Nace replied, "I'll probably sort out a long swim before I go home this evening."

"Sounds good," Deric replied before stopping, "You don't have any parts for booby traps with you, do you?"

Nace smiled faintly, "No, _bru_ , I don't."

"Just checking," Deric smirked.

"Coming into work early doesn't _always_ mean I'm booby trapping something," Nace replied.

"Well, Bilbs, there is a pattern of you coming in early and some kind of booby trap," Deric replied, "For instance Sirengate and yesterday's case of _Footloose_ …"

"First off, _bru_ , the first one was because of our dear friend Mattie the Narcoleptic and the second was a practical exercise in critical thinking. Besides I could have done a lot worse," Nace replied.

"Such as?" Deric asked.

"Well, in the South African Army if I did anything remotely resembling what Mattie the Narcoleptic did it would result in me getting sorted out rather sharpish," Nace replied.

"Just what do you mean by 'sorted out rather sharpish', Bilbs?" Deric asked.

"Exactly what I said," Nace replied, frankly.

"Enlighten me, Bilbs," Deric replied.

Nace replied, "In my own case when I fell asleep during a training class I'd had the chair kicked out from under me and the sergeant kicked me in the stomach."

"You see," Deric began, "That's the thing, methods like that aren't ones we use in ACME."

"If I failed to be vigilant, falling asleep on guard duty for example, my mates could pay the price. The lesson was brutal, but it was one to teach all of us vigilance," Nace replied evenly.

"Bilbs, we're training these kids to be investigators. _Not_ soldiers," Deric countered.

"Vigilance is important for law enforcement officers too, is it not?" Nace replied, finger pointed towards the ceiling, in his trademark make a point gesture.

"If you did that, you'd be instilling fear and paranoia, not vigilance," Deric replied.

"That is a fair point, _bru,_ " Nace replied, "However if Mattie the Narcoleptic decides to nod off in class again…"

"You're not gonna lob another eraser at him," Deric began.

"Nor will I place any sort of device aimed to force his wakefulness. I'll start the bloody paperwork for a disciplinary hearing if it happens again."

"Good," Deric said, "I'll help you write up the paperwork."

"Thanks, _bru_ ," Nace replied as he headed into the locker room to shower and change.

"No prob," Deric replied, before heading for the heavy bag to practice his Muay Thai kicks.

* * *

 **ACME Field Office  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Ryan Summers and Cassie Forbes  
** **06 April 2004, 0747**

Ryan poked his head inside the classroom doorway, looking for anything amiss. From behind him he heard a light peal of laughter from Cassie. He turned around, with a somewhat cross expression on his face.

"After yesterday I wonder just where Agent Bilby might hide something," Ryan began as he glanced upward, looking around the doorway, looking for any surprises.

"I don't think there's anything in the classroom," Cassie smirked.

"That we see," Ryan replied, "Who _knows_ what he might have rigged up in here?"

"He only did that as a lesson yesterday," Cassie countered.

"Oh yeah, well what about the siren he wired into Mattie Saxton's chair?" Ryan countered.

"It's his own fault for always falling asleep in class," Cassie said with a smile, "Look like Agent Bilby was tired of trying to teach over his snoring."

"But I wonder if he'd wire something into the classroom," Ryan replied as he moved in through the doorway, "It's clear, but I don't know what else he could've booby trapped in the classroom."

Cassie rolled her eyes before walking into the classroom, "Wow, paranoid much, Summers?"

"I'd like to think I'm being careful," Ryan countered as he walked over to his seat, crouching down and looking underneath it for a siren or any wires.

"You're not gonna find anything," Matt Saxton said as he walked into the room, "Agent Bilby's preoccupied with something else."

"What, the mother of all booby traps?" Ryan grumbled.

"Nope, he's asking someone out," Matt grinned.

"You're joking, right?" Ryan said, "Agent Bilby asking someone out?"

"Ha! I knew it!" Cassie grinned triumphantly.

"Knew what?" Matt asked.

"That Agent Bilby _so_ has a thing for ADA Borgia," Cassie replied.

"Oh please," Ryan said, "Your sole piece of evidence was seeing him blush while talking to her yesterday."

"That's a pretty reliable indication," Cassie protested.

"Like I said, he could just be uncomfortable around women," Ryan replied.

"Who's the profiler here?" Cassie replied.

"I'm just saying Bilby was just being polite when he was talking to ADA Borgia yesterday," Ryan countered.

"Okay," Cassie said, "Let's ask a third party, then. What do you think, Mattie?"

Saxton grinned toothily, "What's her first name again?"

"Why's that important?" Cassie asked.

"Because I overheard him rehearsing how to ask someone named Alex out," Saxton grinned.

Cassie smiled, "Told ya, Ryan."

"No way," Ryan said, "No way!"

"Way, Ryan," Cassie replied, "Remember when she and McCoy introduced themselves? ADA Borgia's first name is Alexandra and Alex is short for that."

Ryan stood stunned, "I don't believe this…"

* * *

 **ACME Field Office  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Deric, Ivy, Nace, and Armando  
** **06 April 2004, 0922**

"The Brussells Field Office just faxed me their reports on the money laundering ring," Strickland said as he walked into the bullpen from his office, the report in question under his left arm, "I need someone to take this to the District Attorney's office."

"I've got it, boss," Nace said, standing up from his desk, nearly banging one knee against the underside of it as he stood up.

"Why thank you, Agent Bilby," Strickland replied, handing the file to Nace. "Now that's an example of initiative and motivation you people can learn from."

 _Oh, there's some motivation involved all right,_ Deric thought as he clicked the send button of an email he had just finished.

"I'll go with him," Deric replied, before quickly adding, "The DA might have some more questions from me."

"Good thinking, Agent Storm," Strickland said, "We do want to build good relations with the District Attorney's office."

"Sure, boss," Deric replied as Nace began to walk towards the stairs. "Besides, McCoy did want to talk to me about the money laundering ring anyway."

Deric caught up to his partner at the top of the staircase, a smirk forming, "Where's the fire, Bilbs?"

"I do want to be prompt about this," Nace replied, turning around in midstep.

"And I'm sure ADA Borgia has nothing to do with this..." Deric teased.

"Let's say that if the opportunity arises I'll probably ask her out," Nace replied, turning back around to walk down the steps.

"If you say so," Deric replied as they headed out of the building, towards the subway.

* * *

 **District Attorney's Office  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Nace Bilby, Deric Storm, Alexandra Borgia  
** **06 April 2004, 0956**

ADA Alexandra Borgia heard the knock on the doorway of her office. She turned around and a small smile formed on her face as she stood up as she saw Nace standing in the doorway.

"Agent Bilby," Alex began, "What brings you here?"

"The file from the Brussels Field Office on the money laundering ring," Nace replied, a smile of his own on his face.

"And you walked it over here?" Alex asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Not exactly, we did take the subway, counselor," Nace smirked.

"Argue semantics much, Agent Bilby?" Alex replied.

"Well, counselor," Nace replied, smile broadening, "Isn't that what you do for a living?"

"It is," Alex replied, "And I do have to caution you about arguing semantics with a lawyer, Macbeth be damned."

"I really wasn't thinking of MacBeth," Nace replied.

From behind him Nace heard Deric clear his throat. Nace hazarded a glance behind him as Deric gave him a look as if to say 'stop stalling and make your move' before sitting down on the bench outside.

"Oh really, so which of Shakespeare's works were you thinking of?" Alex asked when Nace turned back around.

"None of them, actually," Nace countered.

"Okay, then," Alex replied, "What author's works are you thinking of?"

"That's easy, Cervantes," Nace replied.

" _Don Quixote?_ " Alex asked.

"Yes, the first Western European novel," Nace smirked.

"So if you're seeing yourself as a modern day Don Quixote, what windmills are you charging?"

"I'll leave that to your doubtlessly vivid imagination, counselor," Nace replied, smiling toothily now.

"Aren't you the investigator?" Alex smirked.

"Yes," Nace replied, "But don't lawyers have to have fairly vivid imaginations as well, counselor?"

"So where did you draw your conclusion?" Alex replied.

"Well, counselor," Nace said, with a trademark index finger pointed to the ceiling, "A district attorney's job is to prosecute people. And thus tell a story to make her case."

"I see your logic, Bilby," Alex replied.

"Therefore lawyers do require vivid imaginations if they are to be effective," Nace replied.

"Okay, Agent Bilby," Alex smiled, "You proved I have a vivid imagination. But I wonder what you're thinking."

"Right, counselor," Nace replied, "I am thinking of a question."

"And what would that question be?" Alex asked.

"Would you like to go out next weekend?" Nace asked. _Right, may as well sort out the direct approach._

"Depends, what does 'go out' entail?" Alex asked. _Bold move, with the direct approach._

"I was thinking, if your schedule is free next weekend, that we could go and watch a performance of _Phantom of the Opera_ ," Nace asked.

"Sounds great," Alex said, and almost too eagerly added, "And yes, I'd love to."

Alex noticed the South African's grin widening before he managed to compose himself, "Right then, I'll sort out the tickets."

"One more question," Alex asked, with a slight smirk, "Any reason you chose next weekend instead of this weekend?"

"That's an easy answer," Nace replied, "I've got drill this weekend. Reserve obligations and all."

"Oh, that will do it," Alex replied.

Meanwhile Deric glanced at his watch and, with a roll of his eyes, thought, _Great googly moogly, Bilbs, just ask her out already?_

As Nace and Alex talked, Deric let out a slight sigh and tapped his foot. _I shouldn't have volunteered to come with Nace._

"Agent Storm," came the voice from behind him.

Deric stood up from the bench before he turned around just in time to see Jack McCoy standing there, a smirk on the older man's face.

"Agent Bilby and I stopped by to deliver the case file from the Brussels Field Office," Deric replied.

"Any reason you didn't just fax it over?" McCoy asked as he glanced over at Alex and Nace talking. _As if I didn't already know..._

"The Brussels office asked we hand deliver it," Deric said, "Something about ensuring chain of custody." Deric himself didn't believe the words coming out of his mouth and he knew McCoy saw right through it as well.

"Right," McCoy said, deadpan. A knowing smirk crossed the EADA's face as he and Deric continued to watch Alex and Nace going back and forth.

 _Well, I'll be._ Deric thought as he saw a shy grin cross Nace's face, _he_ _ **can**_ _smile. Will wonders never cease?_

Meanwhile Nace was making the final arrangements to his date with Alex, as said shy grin crossed his face he asked, "So will the 7 P.M. showing work?"

"I should be off then," Alex replied, smiling, "I'll let you know if I'll be late."

"Thank you," Nace said, glancing at his watch, "Right, I must be going."

"I'll see you soon," Alex said.

Nace walked out of Alex's office, just in time to see McCoy and Deric talking. He managed to just barely return his expression to its usual inscrutable one before saying, "Deric, Counselor."

"Agent Bilby," McCoy said, sporting that same knowing look.

"We'd better get going, Counselor," Deric added before glancing at his watch which now read 11 o'clock. _Holy crap! It took him over an_ _ **hour**_ _to ask Borgia out on a date!_

They walked to the elevator and as the door closed Deric turned to Nace and smirked, "Bilbs, that's got to be some kind of a record."

"What?" Nace said, "I asked her out."

"Yeah, but it took you over an hour to do it," Deric replied.

"I was waiting for the right sort of opening," Nace countered.

"If you stalled any longer, I was going to ask her out for you."

"Hardly necessary," the South African countered, "I had the situation in hand."

"Sure you did," Deric smirked as they walked out of the District Attorney's office.

"At any rate, I've got a date in two weeks," Nace smiled as they headed for the subway.

* * *

TBC


	7. Part I: Promotions and Drills

**Part I: Promotions and Drills**

 **Disclaimer:** Same as before.

 _Naartjie_ \- Afrikaans slang for a pretty young woman.

 _Tannie -_ Afrikaans for aunt.

 _Smadge -_ Slang for 'Sergeant Major'.

* * *

 **ACME Field Office  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Nace, Armando, Deric, Ivy  
** **06 April 2004, 1204**

" _Santa Maria!_ " Armando looking at his watch as Deric and Nace approached the table, "It's a little after noon, what took you guys so long?"

"What do you think," Deric replied as he took his seat beside Ivy, kissing his wife lightly after doing so.

"He actually asked Borgia out?" Ivy said.

Deric nodded as Armando took a sip of his water glass.

"And what did she say?" Ivy asked.

"She said yes," Nace replied, smiling.

At this Armando dropped his water glass, eyes going wide, " _Carajo,_ Bilby! That's a miracle!"

"Miracle?" Nace asked, eyes narrowing, "How so?"

"Armando had some money on you either chickening out or Borgia saying no," Deric smirked.

"You wanker," Nace said, but his smile never faded.

 _He's been smiling almost nonstop since we walked out of the DA's office._ Deric thought. _This is a_ _ **whole**_ _new side to Nace._

"So let me guess, Nace took a really long time to ask Borgia out?" Ivy asked.

"It wasn't _that_ long!" Nace protested as he unwrapped his sandwich.

"Yes it was," Deric countered, " _And_ I've got pictures of my watch to prove it."

"Okay," Ivy said, "How long did it take?"

"Put it this way, if I had known he was going to take that long, I would have gone to the hotdog vendor outside," Deric said.

Ivy and Armando promptly laughed as Ivy playfully punched her husband on the arm, "Well, you volunteered to go with him."

"Biggest mistake of my day," Deric groaned.

"She said yes," Nace said to no one in particular, the smile still on his face.

"It only took you over an hour," Deric smirked, "I almost had to ask her for you."

"I have to admit, this is a whole new side to Nace," Ivy remarked, "One that smiles for extended periods of time."

"If I didn't see it with my own eyes I'd think Nace got replaced with a pod person," Deric whispered to his wife.

Nace stifled a yawn, before standing up from the table and walking over to the beverage kiosk. A cup of coffee was most certainly in order. He filled the cup and headed over to the table, sitting down and taking a sip of it.

"Long night?" Ivy asked.

"You could say that," Nace replied, taking another sip of his coffee before stifling yet another yawn.

* * *

 **Westside YMCA  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Alexandra Borgia and Serena Southerlyn  
** **06 April 2004, 1722**

"So he asked you out?" ADA Serena Southerlyn began as she and Alex walked out of the locker room, towards the racquetball court.

Alex nodded with a small smile, "That he did."

"Funny, I didn't hear a siren or any alarms go off when he did," Serena joked.

"That was one time, and he meant it for a student of his with somnolent tendencies," Alex protested as they approached the door.

"Yet you found it," Serena countered.

Alex couldn't help but redden slightly as Serena's grin widened, "There was also that Footloose story you were telling…"

"He was using that as a practical example for a class," Alex said, "I didn't trigger _that_ one."

"You were still around when the thing did get triggered though," Serena replied.

"Fair enough," Alex sighed as she slid on her safety glasses.

"So a first date with an eccentric, Shakespeare quoting bomb disposal technician," Serena began as she put her own safety glasses on.

"That's not something you see every day," Alex replied as she unzipped the case containing her racquetball racquet.

"Ready?" Serena asked as she bounced the ball off the ground before catching it.

Alex nodded and with a small smirk quipped, "Let's see what you've got, Serena."

Serena returned the smirk before sending the ball flying and Alex scrambling after it.

* * *

 **Deric and Ivy's Residence  
** **Brooklyn, NYC  
** **Deric Storm, Ivy Darren-Storm, Nace Bilby  
** **07 April 2004, 0705**

Goliath barked eagerly as Nace stepped out of his parked Jeep and headed towards the front of Deric and Ivy's place. Deric and Ivy stood at the foot of the steps with Ghost on his own leash, the larger dog barked in return.

"I can't thank you enough for babysitting Goliath," Nace began.

"It's no trouble, Bilbs," Deric smirked, "Ghost loves having Goliath around to play with."

"He keeps pulling on my pants legs though," Ivy replied, "I might have to start wearing skirts more often."

"I wouldn't mind that, Red," Deric said with a smirk.

"That's herding behavior," Nace replied.

"Cute," Ivy quipped, "How do you _stop_ that herding behavior, though?"

"Give him a pinch to the side of the neck and say 'no' when he does that," Nace replied as he handed the leash off to Ivy.

He crouched down and gave Goliath a hearty pat on the head, then scratched the canine behind the ears, getting a barrage of licks and nuzzling in return from Goliath.

"Good boy," Nace smirked, "Now you be good for _Oom_ Deric and _Tannie_ Ivy."

" _Tannie_?" Ivy asked, eyebrow raised.

"That's Afrikaans for 'aunt'," Nace supplied, "And _Oom_ is 'uncle'."

"Oh," Ivy replied as Goliath barked.

"Anyway, I'd best be going," Nace replied, after petting his dog one last time. Then glancing at his watch as he stood up.

"Have a safe trip, Bilbs," Deric said as Nace headed for the cab that would take him to the airport.

* * *

 **Dequar Road Base  
** **Praetoria, South Africa  
** **Nace Bilby, Benjamin Vaas, and Nathaniel Danvers  
** **09 April 2004, 0748**

"Oi, Wanker!" Benjamin Vaas shouted as he lit a cigarette.

"Good to see you too, Baz," Nace commented as he strode towards the red brick building that served as 2nd Reconnaissance Regiment drill hall.

"Seems they'll promote just about anybody," Nathaniel Danvers said as he blew a cloud of smoke into the air.

"Screw you, Dinger," Nace replied with a toothy grin as he approached his old mates, receiving a good natured punch on the arm by his friends. Nace returned the gesture to Baz and Dinger in turn before setting his backpack down on the ground.

"So how's New York?" Baz remarked.

"Interesting so far," Nace replied, "I'm working at the ACME Field Office in Manhattan. We've got a cycle of new probationary agents we've been training up."

"You as a teacher," Dinger laughed, "I can't picture it."

"Heh, why can't you?" Baz shot back before taking another drag of his cigarette, "Come on, don't you remember all the trivia Nace pushed out any time we had an idle moment."

"Oh, yes. However it did win us a few free drinks at the pub whenever it did trivia night," Dinger quipped.

"Hah," Nace replied, "I'll have the pair of you know I borrowed a page or two from old Fosby's book."

"Oh bugger," Dinger groused, smacking his forehead as he did so, "Which part? The monotone lectures? The setting of booby traps? Or the setting the trash can on fire?"

Nace sarcastically said, "Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha, Dinger. You're a bloody scream. For one I'm _not_ South Africa's Ben Stein."

"You've not gone into the other two," Baz observed as he blew a cloud of smoke into the air.

Nace waved his hand in front of his face, "That's because you didn't let me elaborate on the other two, wanker."

"Well what about the other two, Bilby?" Dinger asked.

"I've set a couple booby traps, mainly because one student fails to stay awake in class," Nace replied, "And I do believe the last one is arson. The last thing I want is to have to deal with the DA's office."

"DA?" Baz asked.

"Oh, District Attorneys are what the Yanks would call our State Attorneys. They're the sort that prosecute criminals," Nace replied.

"So how did the booby traps work out?" Dinger asked.

"Both worked quite well, though the first hit an unintended target," Nace replied with a sheepish expression on his face, "One of the representatives from the District Attorney's office tripped up a pressure plate I built into a student's chair."

"Alright, bru, heard the summarized version, let's hear whole booby trap story. This sounds like it beats anything Fosby did," Dinger said, with a toothy grin.

"Dinger, for the record, you're a wanker," Nace replied before telling the story of the siren.

"Hah! I love it!" Dinger said, leaning against the building and letting out a great belly laugh.

"So in attempting to mimic Fosby you wound up getting some woman from the Manhattan District Attorney's Office to trip a pressure switch connected to a siren under a chair?" Baz added, laughing all the while.

"What are you willing to bet she's some frumpy sort that got a bloody heart attack from the siren?" Dinger guffawed.

"I'll have you know she's quite the opposite," Nace replied.

"Oh, let's hear this," Baz said, toothily grinning before punching Dinger on the arm to get his attention.

"Wot?" Dinger asked.

"Evidently while you damn near inhaled your own cigarette laughing," Baz quipped, earning a glare from Dinger in response, "Bilby said the woman from the DA's office was rather the opposite of the frumpy bird you were honking about."

"So, Bilby, evidently she's quite the _naartjie_?" Dinger asked.

Nace nodded, "She's about 5'10", Italian ancestry if her last name is anything to go off of, slender build, fair skin, dark brown hair that comes just slightly below shoulder length, brown eyes about the color of the best chocolate…"

Baz and Dinger both saw Nace's ever expanding grin as they both took drags on their cigarettes. As Nace's voice trailed off Baz smirked, "Someone's got it bad."

Nace's smile remained in place, "I've got a date with her next Friday."

"That's your first date in what? Six years is it?" Dinger replied.

"Oi, what's going on here," James "Tiny" Frantz said as he strode up to them.

Baz glanced upward at the powerfully built, bald fellow that approached, "Evidently Nace sorted out a first date in New York."

"So she's what? Your supervisor or something?" Tiny quipped.

"Piss off, Tiny," Nace replied with a smirk.

"Well, you did fall in love with a nurse after being wounded during the war," Tiny said, grin widening.

"You wanker," Nace replied.

Tiny guffawed, "And last time I checked military nurses are commissioned officers."

"Piss off Tiny," Nace repeated, rolling his eyes.

"We should celebrate that after this drill," Baz replied.

"Of course that will involve industrial quantities of alcohol, right?" Nace asked.

"Too right," Dinger added before taking yet another drag off his cigarette.

"I'd best get indoors before the pair of you poison me with second hand smoke," Nace said with a roll of the eyes.

"Hah!" Dinger laughed, blowing smoke in Nace's direction.

Nace shot him the finger as he entered the building, nearly running into a tall, slender, balding, dirty blond haired fellow with a long nose.

"Sorry about that, Staff," Nace said as he addressed the man.

"No worries, Bilby," Staff Sergeant Robert Prinsloo replied before Nace turned to one side, letting him out of the building to address the soldiers standing outside, "Right, you lot, assemble inside."

Nace glanced over his right shoulder, just in time to see Dinger and Baz stubbing out their cigarettes and tossing them into the ash tray over the garbage can. He recognized several soldiers, some of them veterans of the war but also several new ones.

"New blokes from the latest Training Cycle," Dinger observed.

"You've got two of them in your new team," Prinsloo whispered. "Baz, you'll get one of the new blokes, Dinger you'll get three. You'll get to meet the new blokes later, but look sharp for now, the Smadge and the Colonel are on their way."

A stocky, barrel chested African man strode into the room and Dinger quipped, "Speak of the devil."

"Attention," Warrant Officer Mhlongo, the unit's Sergeant Major or 'Smadge', shouted.

Several chairs scraped across the floor as the assembled soldiers stood to attention. A gaunt fellow with tousled brown hair with a touch of grey strode purposefully towards the room and Nace recognized him as Lieutenant Colonel Aaron Neuland, the newly minted commanding officer of 2.1 Commando.

"At ease, lads," Neuland said as he paced up and down the front of the classroom with long strides, "As you can see 2.1 Commando, indeed all of 2 Recce Regiment has some new blood fresh out of the Training Cycle. To you new blokes, welcome. My Troop Commanders and Staff Sergeants and team leaders will ensure you are in good hands."

Nace studied Neuland as the man paced up and down the front of the classroom, he knew him by reputation but not personally. _They say he's a fair sort, a stickler for standards. And he's a veteran of hundreds of small team operations._

"To you old hands, I shall rely rather heavily on your experience to integrate these new blokes into the unit. Having fought alongside several of you during the war I have faith that you will do so. Do not prove me mistaken."

A pair of hazel eyes regarded every man in the room through the brief silence. Then Neuland wryly grinned, "Right, now the first exercise for us will be a parachute jump followed by a foot march back to a rendezvous point. Your Troop Commanders have the schedules and the particulars."

Another pause as Neuland let his words sink in and Nace found his mind racing. _Good training for the new blokes and us old hands too._ Nace thought, remembering many multi-hour, multi-kilometer hikes through rough terrain following parachute jumps to go after enemy units.

"Shared hardship through realistic training, a proven way to build cohesion in a unit," Neuland continued, "That's the point of tonight's exercise. We leave for the airfield at 1600 today and jump at midnight. I'll see you gentlemen then."

"Attention!" Mhlongo bellowed and the assembled soldiers of 2.1 Commando stood to as Neuland calmly walked out of the room.

A flurry of activity followed as the different groups of soldiers wandered off to find their particular Troops. Nace saw Tiny walking by with an athletic looking African man and a wiry fellow of Indian descent.

"Nace, this is Jacob Nyathi and Zafar Younis, the two new blokes for our team," Tiny said, indicating the African and the Indian man in turn.

"Good to meet you," Nace said, shaking each man's hand in turn, "Ready for tonight's jump?"

Nyathi nodded, smiling toothily, "Looking forward to it."

Zaf added a wry grin of his own, "All things considered I'd rather ride a jeep."

"Still scared of heights?" Nyathi said with a lighthearted punch to Zaf's arm.

"Right," Nace said, "Head to the quartermaster and draw your kit, and sort out something to eat and meet here in a couple hours."

"Right," Zaf nodded and he and Nyathi headed off to do just that.

"Oi," Dinger said as he approached, "Captain Munro wants to see all team leaders, meet up in our Troop day room."

Nace wordlessly followed his old comrade out of the classroom.

* * *

 **Air Force Base Waterkloof  
** **Praetoria, South Africa  
** **Nace, Zaf, Nyathi, Tiny, Dinger and Baz  
** **09 April 2004, 1710**

"We rig up soon," Nace said as he headed over to Zaf, Tiny, and Nyathi.

"And we jump too," Nyathi grinned toothily.

"The sooner the better," Zaf replied, looking somewhat nervous.

"I bloody hate parachuting too, Zaf," Nace replied.

"Really?" Nyathi asked, incredulous, "How many jumps do you have again?"

"Fifty-four," Nace replied, calmly, "Other than twelve training jumps, forty-two of them entailed facing desperately homicidal blokes with automatic weapons on landing."

"And you hate jumping, still?" Zaf asked.

"It's not a natural act to throw yourself out of a perfectly functioning aircraft," Nace replied, "Anyone who says they're not scared or nervous before a jump is either lying or is completely batfuck."

"Hah!" Dinger laughed with mock contempt.

"Case in point for the latter," Nace replied calmly.

Baz and Tiny laughed at Dinger's expense. Dinger reddened slightly, "Hah! Parabats are hardly frightened."

"Parabats?" Zaf asked.

"Slang for 44 Parachute Battalion," Nace replied, "Baz and Dinger served a year and a half in the Parabats before they joined Recces."

"Parachuting is a real rush," Nyathi said, "All this jump needs is a swig of good whiskey and we're in business."

"You're batfuck," Zaf said with a wry grin.

"I could use a Knob Creek on the rocks," Nace replied.

"Knob Creek?" Nyathi asked, curious.

"It's a Yank brand of bourbon."

"Bourbon?" Nayathi asked.

"Basically a type of whiskey, made in one region of the US," Nace replied, smiling, "Developed a taste for it in New York City."

"I could go for a stiff drink," Zaf smirked.

"What would you be doing if you weren't parachuting from a plane tonight?" Tiny chimed in.

"Probably waiting tables at TGI Friday's at Victoria Wharf in Cape Town to get through my next semester at university," Nyathi replied.

Zaf said, "Spending time with my wife. She's in the second trimester."

"Really?" Baz said, "First one?"

Zaf nodded, and promptly was the recipient of at least one hearty pat on the back from Baz and Dinger.

Baz exclaimed, "Congratulations!"

"What about you, Bilby?" Zaf asked, "What would you do?"

Nace smiled, "I would probably be enjoying a first date with a rather nice young woman I met in New York City."

"It's official," Dinger smirked, "You've got it bad."

"Oh bollocks to you lot," Nace smirked.

"Right! Time to get rigged up, lads!" Prinsloo's voice echoed into the hangar.

Nace and his teammates were fitted with their parachutes, which included having their 70 pound backpacks rigged between their legs and weapon cases slung under their arms. Thus heavily burdened they waddled down the tarmac, boarding a turboprop powered C-47.

The steady whirr of the turboprops as the aircraft began to taxi jolted Nace out of a light doze and then the aircraft lifted off.

Nace mentally played the lyrics of the song _Africa_ by Toto as the aircraft continued its steady climb.

 _Gonna take a lot to drag me away from you...there's nothing a hundred men or more could ever do..._ Nace thought, and as he felt the aircraft level off his mind switched over what to do next. _Wait for the command to stand up._

His eyes glanced upward from under his helmet to the high tension steel cables running along the length of the inside of the aircraft's fuselage. _Then hook up, check my equipment, and then head for the door and exit._

"Stand up!" the shout came from Nace's right.

He heard it echo as he and several of his mates closest to the jumpmaster shouted it down the aircraft. Pushing with his legs he got to his feet, under the weight of his kit, parachute and reserve chute.

"Hook up!" came the order.

Again the command was echoed down the aircraft and Nace hooked the static line into the steel cable above his head.

 _This is it._ Nace thought, with a slight gulp. And then he crossed himself, his pre-jump ritual that he had done through fifty-four previous parachute jumps.

He felt the rush of air as the jumpmaster opened the side door, looking out into the night sky. The red lights that bathed the fuselage's interior changed to green and Nace saw Captain Munro, at the head of his stick of jumpers turn right, handing his yellow static line to the jumpmaster, before exiting the aircraft. Another soldier in front of Nace was out next and now it was his turn.

Shutting his eyes Nace jumped into the African night, feeling the air rushing around him, counting to himself. _One-one thousand. Two-one thousand. Three-one thousand. Four…._

Before he could finish the count of four seconds he felt his fall being arrested by a stiff jerk. He looked up to see the olive drab silk of his parachute canopy above his head.

 _No holes, good._ Nace thought, as he floated earthward.

* * *

TBC


	8. Part I: Parachute Jumps, Calls, Affairs

Part One: Of Parachute Jumps, Phone Calls, and Affairs

Disclaimer: Same as before...

* * *

 **Somewhere on the Veldt  
** **North of Pretoria, South Africa  
** **Nace, Tiny, Zaf, and Nyathi  
** **10 April 2004, 2405**

As the parachute deployment jerked Nace into a slower rate of fall the South African examined the canopy above his head. _No holes or tears._

He glanced around, now seeing that the trees were nearly eye level. He reflexively yanked the tab on his left hip, releasing his rucksack and weapon case, causing them to dangle from a length of cable below him. _Right, brace legs and knees for impact…_

Nace hit the ground, landing feet first before turning to one side, landing on the sides of his legs and lats in a semi-roll. He disengaged the harness, removing the parachute. _If the wind kicks up I'll get dragged along the ground if I don't get out of this thing._

He shed the parachute before he tugged on the line retrieving his rucksack and the case containing his rifle. He pulled his R5 rifle before donning his heavy rucksack and glancing upwards. _Look out for other jumpers._

Then he started to jog away from the drop zone along a compass bearing he knew from their meeting with the Troop Commander earlier.

"Oi, wanker," came the whisper from his left.

Nace turned to his left to see Baz heading along that same heading, towards the Troop rendezvous point, his team following him.

Nace hazarded a glance behind him, seeing Zaf and Nyathi heading his way, Tiny bringing up the rear. He glanced back in front of him, seeing three orange glowsticks on a string swung in a circle above Munro's head.

He could see Dinger's team was already at the RV point, at the edge of a stand of acacia trees. Nace and Baz's teams reached the RV point at about the same time. As one the Troop moved into the darkness of the acacia thicket.

 _Perfect spot of cover._ Nace thought as they moved a kilometer deeper into the brush to establish their lay up point (LUP).

"Right, sort out the guard roster and get some rest. We move at dawn," Munro ordered.

* * *

 **Deric and Ivy's Residence  
** **Brooklyn, N.Y.C.  
** **Deric and Ivy Storm  
** **09 April 2004, 1705**

"Zack," Ivy said, speaking into her cell phone as she sat on the sofa, "Of course you can visit...Hey!"

Ivy glanced downward to see Goliath hop up onto the sofa, and then onto her lap. She glanced down to see the canine curled up onto her lap, panting softly, tongue hanging out.

She heard her brother's concern on the other side of the line, "No, it's just Goliath, our friend's dog that we're babysitting while he's drilling with his reserve unit. He's a puppy so that means he's got that usual puppy energy."

Zack's laughter rang in Ivy's ears, "Well, little bro, right now he's curled up on my lap begging for cuddle time...and...Goliath, knock it off!"

Ivy grumbled irately as the German Shepherd puppy sat up and started licking her face, particularly around her mouth, "Ack...ptthh...hey! Not now! Goliath!"

The small dog backed off with a slight whine cocking his head to one side. Ivy sighed, "That's better."

"Trouble with the dog, Red?" Deric smirked as he came into the living room from the kitchen with Ghost following him.

"He's being a cuddlebug when I'm trying to talk to Zack," Ivy complained.

"Goliath," Deric said, snapping his fingers, and the puppy hopped off of Ivy's lap.

"How do you do that?" Ivy said.

"My animal magnetism, Red," Deric smirked as Goliath trotted over to him.

"Very funny," Ivy countered before sinking back onto the sofa.

"So how's Zack?" Deric asked.

"Well, he's Zack, plus stressing about meeting Tatyanna's family in Russia next week," Ivy said, "I mean really worried."

"Meeting family will do that," Deric replied as Goliath and Ghost started to sniff each other again, "When's Zack flying in again?"

"Next weekend," Ivy replied.

"I'll clear out the guest bedroom," Deric replied as he walked back into the kitchen with the two dogs in tow.

* * *

 **District Attorney's Office  
** **Manhattan, NYC  
** **Alexandra Borgia and Jack McCoy  
** **09 April 2004, 1733**

"Heading out?" McCoy asked as he took his coat off of the coat rack.

"Yeah," Alex replied as she walked towards the elevator, she made it a couple steps before turning around and saying, "One question, though, Jack? Why did you want Nace's report on the shed incident? We don't have jurisdiction in Arizona."

"We don't, but Agent Arguilla's case on migrant smuggling is one that is helping the SVU team with a human trafficking case. Arizona is one of the places traffickers get people into this country," McCoy said, draping his coat around his left arm.

"I know ACME's been helping us with that case," Alex replied, "But what does that have to do with the money launderers that Storm and Bilby caught?"

"The trafficking ring was using them to launder their money," McCoy said, "We're building a case against a big trafficking ring. Mostly SVU's involved, but we've got a role to play too."

"You know, you could have told me that sooner," Alex replied, somewhat crossly.

"And I'm sorry I didn't bring you in on that," McCoy sighed, sliding his jacket on as they walked towards the elevator.

"It's alright," Alex said as she shifted her briefcase to her other hand as they stepped into the elevator.

McCoy smirked as the door closed, "So Agent Bilby asked you out?"

Alex smiled and nodded, "It took him long enough to make the move _."_

"So when's the big date?" McCoy asked.

"Next Friday," Alex replied, still smiling. _I was wondering when he'd make the move._

"Why so late?" McCoy asked raising an eyebrow as he did so.

"A training exercise with his reserve unit back in South Africa," Alex replied.

"That'll do it," McCoy said, "So what are you guys doing?"

"Watching the _Phantom of the Opera_ ," Alex replied.

"And I guess you'll be checking under your seat for a siren?" McCoy joked.

"If Nace manages to smuggle a siren into the theater I'll be impressed," Alex said with a slight laugh.

McCoy chuckled as well and said, "I _almost_ would be reluctant to charge him with disturbing the peace."

"And I would be upset with you for arresting my date," Alex countered.

* * *

 **Marshall Stack  
** **Lower Manhattan, NYC  
** **Ryan Summers, Cassie Forbes, and Matt Saxton  
** **09 April 2004, 1915**

"One Guinness and one Long Island Iced Tea," the bartender said to Ryan Summers. He took the drinks and headed over to the small table he shared with Cassie Forbes and Matt Saxton.

"And here's the drink I owe you," Ryan said to Cassie, setting the Long Island Iced Tea in front of her.

"Thanks," Cassie smirked and took a sip of her drink.

"So what's the wager for?" Matt replied.

"Over who was right over the Agent Bilby having a thing for ADA Borgia debate," Cassie smiled, toothily.

"Don't you owe _me_ a drink too, Ryan?" Matt replied before taking a sip of the glass of red wine in front of him.

"No," Ryan replied crossly, "I made the bet with Cassie, not you."

"But I gave her the information that helped her win the bet," Matt grinned, "That ought to count for something."

"That's a technicality," Ryan protested.

"Cassie? What do you think?" Matt asked, pressing his advantage.

"Well you did give me some concrete evidence," Cassie began, quirking her lips.

"Well?" Matt grinned.

"So that means you owe Matt his next drink," Cassie said with a smile.

Ryan sighed as the chiming of Cassie's cell phone echoed from her purse. The young woman pulled the phone from her purse and her smile widened as she saw the number.

"I've got to take this," Cassie said, opening her phone and pressing it to her ear, "Hey Donny, it's a bit noisy in here, give me a minute to get outside."

Both Ryan and Matt watched Cassie rush outside to take the phone call. Ryan rolled his eyes as he sipped at his Guinness, "What does she see in that guy?"

"Jealous?" Matt replied with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Ryan said, complexion reddening, "Just concerned. Agent Fowler is such a scumbag."

"No, you're not jealous at all," Matt sarcastically replied.

"I'm just afraid he's gonna break Cassie's heart. That's all," Ryan protested.

"Oh please, your thing for Cassie is more obvious than Agent Bilby's thing for ADA Borgia," Matt countered after swallowing a mouthful of his wine.

"I mean it," Ryan continued, "I mean if Agent Fowler is willing to run around on his wife with Cassie…"

"Hate to say this, buddy," Matt replied, "But between you, me, and the drinks I think Cassie is definitely headed for a broken heart."

"She's a profiler. Why can't she see that Agent Fowler's been stringing her along for a year," Ryan replied as he set his drink down, looking out of the bar's front window where he could see Cassie laughing lightly at something Donny had said.

"She's emotionally involved," Matt replied, "I mean you hear her gush about how romantic he can be."

"Too many times," Ryan grumbled.

"You are seriously jealous," Matt replied as he glanced over towards the front window of the bar, where Cassie was talking on her cell phone, smiling and blushing.

"Okay, okay," Ryan admitted, "I am, but I also am really worried about what this is gonna do to Cassie."

"When she finds out she's being played it's gonna break her heart," Matt replied, with a sigh, "Sorry to say."

"I figured that," Ryan replied.

"Have you thought about, oh, I don't know, telling her how you feel?" Matt replied.

"That's not gonna help things!" Ryan exclaimed, eyes going wide.

"I didn't mean tell her you've got a thing for her," Matt countered peevishly, "I meant tell her your concerns about Donny."

"How?" Ryan asked.

"Damn it, Ryan, I…" Matt said, his cell phone ringing, and his face brightened, "Gotta take this."

"Great," Ryan sighed as he sat alone with his drink.

* * *

 **Somewhere on the Veldt  
** **North of Pretoria, South Africa  
** **Nace, Tiny, Zaf, and Nyathi  
** **10 April 2004, 0620**

Nace watched the pale sun rising in the sky as he donned his rucksack, checking the area around him for anything that might have fallen from his pocket. He could see the other operators from his troop doing similar things.

He hefted the R5 rifle in his right hand and tightened the straps on his heavy rucksack. He heard the laughter-like sounds of the pack of hyenas echoing across the semi arid grassland.

"Woooo-uuuuup….wooo-uuuuppp!" the laughter-like sounds echoed.

 _Impisi tuning up._ Nace thought, using the Zulu word for the spotted hyena.

"Wooo-uuuup...Wooo-uuuuppp-uuuuuppp...Wooo…."

Nace clutched his rifle, grateful he had a round in the chamber and thirty-four other rounds in the magazine. _Maybe 2 or 3 kilometers away. That's 2 or 3 kilometers closer than I would like. Thankfully all I've got to do is flick the safety off if one of the bloody things gets too close._

Nace blinked his eyes. _That ZANLA bloke back in Rhodesia we'd found on my first tour. He'd gotten wounded during a contact. His mates left him only for impisi to happen on him..._

Munro gestured for the troop to move forward and Nace checked his rifle, ensuring there was still a round in the chamber, a force of longstanding habit before he began to walk along the direction they'd sorted out earlier. _There might not be any Cobra forces about, but loaded firearms are helpful in case hyenas decide to get too bloody close. They got rather bold during the war, especially with the freshly killed on the battlefield. Sometimes the bloody things don't even wait for someone to die..._

As they walked along Nace continuously scanned the long grass ahead, to his left and right and behind him. They advanced up a hill, walking along the ridgeline. _Staying below the crest of the ridgeline. Good._ Nace thought. _If we walked along the ridgeline we'd get skylined. And if you're skylined it's easy for the other blokes to light you up._

Nace continued to scan the terrain as they continued their march, recalling stalking Cobra soldiers in the long grassy terrain in both South Africa, Mozambique, and Zimbabwe through the telescopic sights of various marksman and sniper rifles. _Spot the enemy before he spots you._ Nace thought.

He glanced around, seeing Tiny and Nyathi to his left, and Zaf to his right. He saw Zaf put his gloved left hand against his mouth as he yawned. He saw Zaf recover, and continue scanning the terrain around him. _Good. He's not getting complacent._

The march continued, with the occasional short halt to regain their bearings. During one halt Nace found his mind drifting as Munro checked his map. _I wonder what Alex is up to in NYC? Is Goliath behaving himself for Deric and Ivy? Right, that's not important now._

Before Munro finished his map check and got the patrol on the move again, Nace had put any thoughts about New York City to the back of his mind as they continued the long march.

* * *

 **Marshall Stack  
** **Lower Manhattan, NYC  
** **Serena Southerlyn and Alexandra Borgia  
** **09 April 2004, 2000**

"Hey, sorry I missed our racquetball game," Alex said as she joined Serena at the bar, "McCoy had me working on that money laundering case."

"I figured," Serena said as she took a sip of her drink, "Don't worry, I'll kick your butt next week."

"McCoy finally told me about the big case that SVU's working, that's tied to this money laundering ring," Alex said before taking a sip of her own drink, before throwing her friend a mock glare, "That's a little presumptuous."

"I wondered why Branch and McCoy wanted everything ACME had on the money laundering ring and the trafficking case Agent Arguilla was working," Serena said as she leaned back casually in her chair.

"Evidently SVU is prosecuting a big human trafficking case," Alex replied with a sigh.

"Casey Novak's been pulling some late hours lately." Serena took another sip of her drink.

"I don't know how she does it," Alex mused, "I don't know if I could do a rotation in SVU. Or homicide for that matter."

"Well if you're as good at preparing cases for Vice you should do fine," Serena replied with a wry grin, "I mean McCoy spoke pretty highly of your work with ACME."

"Thank you. And I think I learned more about demolition than I wanted to from that shed incident," Alex said, sipping another mouthful of her drink.

"You know I thought bomb disposal technicians were supposed to _prevent_ things from going boom," Serena replied.

"Sometimes if the explosives are unstable the safest thing to do is blow them up _in situ_ ," Alex replied, "Like that decades old stock of dynamite in that shed."

"You learned all that from one phone call?" Serena asked.

"And Nace's report, to include his technical diagrams," Alex replied, "I think I could describe how to make 220 pounds of runny dynamite go boom in my sleep."

"Like I said, I'm sure he'd be an interesting first date." Serena finished her drink before gesturing the bartender over to order a second.

"I'm looking forward to it," Alex smiled.

"I have a feeling that there will be fireworks," Serena replied, and at Alex's quizzical look she smiled, "Not of the explosive variety."

"I was gonna say, you almost sound like McCoy." Alex took another sip of her drink.

"Why, what did he say?" Serena leaned closer to Alex, in a slightly conspiring way.

"He made some comment about Nace somehow managing to wire a siren into my seat. And I said if he somehow managed to smuggle it into Broadway I'd be surprised," Alex smirked.

"So what are you guys watching?" Serena asked.

"Phantom of the Opera," Alex replied.

 _Something tells me neither of them will pay much attention to the show._ Serena thought to herself.

"Is there something on your mind?" Alex asked her friend.

"Yeah, I just know you two aren't going to pay much attention to the show," Serena said with a smile.

"What makes you say that?" Alex asked.

"Please. The way you two look at each other…" Serena smiled toothily before she took another sip of her drink.

"That is a bit presumptuous, after all it took him an hour to ask me out," Alex replied.

"I'm thinking he's just a bit shy around women," Serena replied, taking a sip of her drink, "And besides I can see the chemistry you two have already."

Alex smiled,"Well there's that."

"You two do lose track of time when talking." Serena replied, "After all it did take over an hour of banter before he finally asked you out…"

* * *

TBC


	9. Part I: Memories and Siblings

Part One: Memories and Siblings

Disclaimer: Same as before…

 _Kaffer_ \- Offensive Afrikaner slang for a black person.

* * *

 **Somewhere on the Veldt  
** **North of Pretoria, South Africa  
** **Nace, Tiny, Zaf and Nyathi  
** **11 April 2004, 0615**

"Wooo-uuuppp...wooo-uuupp…"

The sound echoed across the veldt and Nace tightened his grip on his rifle as his troop waited at the RV point for the Casspir armored vehicles that would take them back to base.

"What's that?" Zaf asked.

" _Impisi_ ," Nace replied and at Zaf's quizzical look he added, "Spotted hyena. Scavengers mostly."

"What do you mean mostly?" Zaf asked.

Nace raised his hand, gesturing for Zaf to be quiet as they held a perimeter near a road junction. The sound of rustling in a nearby bush catching his attention.

"Halt!" Nyathi shouted, aiming his weapon at the movement.

"Good security," Neuland said as he stepped from out of the bushes.

"Sorry sir!" Nyathi quickly replied, lowering his rifle.

"No need to apologize." Neuland raised his left hand, his right remaining on the pistol grip of his R5 carbine, "You're keeping good security. The Sergeant Major and I have been seeing that trend."

"Look around for the Smadge," Tiny whispered to Zaf.

"Good advice," Neuland said as he walked past them, walking over to confer with Munro.

"Right, Munro, your lads are maintaining good security and noise discipline. Their counter tracking skills could use some work…" Neuland began as he spoke to Munro.

Nace saw Zaf turning his head so he could overhear. He tossed a pebble at Zaf, "Oi, knock off the earwig. Eyes forward. See if you can't find where the Smadge is lurking."

Zaf silently nodded, with a sheepish expression on his face. The troop scanned the perimeter, looking for any sign of Mholongo. Nace scanned the brush in front of him, his gaze moving slowly, taking in the long grass, the brush, and a couple large rocks.

 _The rocks are too obvious a hiding place. The bushes might be a bit more promising..._ Nace thought as he scanned the area. _The Smadge and the Colonel are veterans of multiple small team operations. The sort of blokes who'd sneak behind enemy lines, pinpointing positions for our artillery and aircraft to sort out...experts at camouflage._

There was that clump just to the left of that stand of acacia trees. _Bloody termite mound._ Nace thought. _Wait. Movement…_

That movement became quite obvious as Nace saw a human silhouette rise from the ground. The Smadge had been lying still, beside the termite mound. He walked over to the perimeter before walking over to talk to Prinsloo.

Nace could hear the sound of engines approaching and saw the tall, narrow, silhouettes of several Casspir armored vehicles approaching their position. The troop climbed aboard the personnel carriers.

As the vehicles bounced along the terrain of the veldt Nyathi turned to Nace, "Oi, Sergeant?"

"Yeah," Nace said, turning to face Nyathi.

"What's the deal with the _impisi_?"

"They got rather bold during the war. If you couldn't get the wounded in time…" Nace began.

* * *

 **Mozambique/Rhodesia Border  
** **Northeast of Salisbury, Rhodesia  
** **Nace, Dinger, and Baz  
** **22 October 1996, 1344**

"Looks like you got him, Bilby," Baz said as he looked at the pool of blood and the indentation in the long grass.

"Dark blood too," Dinger remarked as he cradled the RPD light machinegun, "Gutshot."

 _Stomach wound. It can take days to die from those._ Nace thought as he held his telescope sighted FN-FAL rifle in his hands. _Hope his mates sorted him out with a shot of morphine, if they had any._

"Looks like he had some mates with him that dragged him off," Sergeant Colin Frith, Rhodesian SAS, remarked as he indicated the flattening in the grass.

All Nace had seen after parachuting into the area where the terrs had been spotted was a lone figure that had popped out from behind a rock, firing an AK-47. Nace had snapped off a shot in that direction, one of several he'd fired during that contact. And the only shot he wasn't sure had hit its target.

"Right," Lieutenant Henry Tresckow, the patrol leader, said, "Let's see if we can't find this bloke. If he's still alive he could give us some intelligence on his mates."

The team moved through thick brush and high grass. There was another pool of blood at the base of an acacia tree.

"Fucking outrageous," Dinger remarked, as he pointed at a pair of footprints in the soft soil beside the tree, "They dragged their mate away from the contact and when he got too heavy after a kilometer or so they left him be."

"Perhaps they went to sort him out later," Nace replied.

"Hah!" Baz sourly laughed as he adjusted the grip on his AK-47. "More like they left him here."

Nace looked to the right of the tree, seeing the trail of blood and drag marks in the soil. As he moved several meters into the brush he parted a branch only to recoil at the sight of a young man barely out of his teens and half eaten.

"Looks like hyenas got him," Frith remarked from over Nace's right shoulder.

"Buggers even ate through his webbing," Dinger said as he crouched down, looking at pieces of the ZANLA man's ammo belt lying on the ground.

"Something that has jaws that can crush bone isn't going to be bothered by thick nylon webbing," Nace commented, face ashen.

"They left him with his weapon," Baz remarked, picking up the man's AK-47 which was lying a meter away.

"He used it too," Dinger said, pointing to several 7.62mm brass casings lying near the corpse.

The AK's wooden handguards were chewed through, and the pistol grip was covered with blood. Baz held up the rifle. "Lot of good that did him."

"Well, you answered your question." Lance Corporal Erich Spyde, one of the other snipers, walked over to Nace, "You got the bloke."

"Wasn't a clean kill," Nace replied.

"You got the bloke anyway." Spyde prodded the corpse with the barrel of his telescope sighted FN-FAL as he wrinkled his nose at the stench of early decay, "What does it matter if a bullet or a pride of hyenas finished him off?"

"A sniper should make a clean kill. Don't make a bloke suffer more than necessary." Nace replied.

"Pfah!" Spyde replied, "He's just another _kaffer_."

"Major Konig's lessons clearly failed to sink in." Nace pinched his nose as the odor of decay wafted through the air.

"Meh, he's a bloody old windbag." Spyde crouched down, rooting through the dead man's pockets and magazine pouches.

"Prick." Nace grumbled.

Spyde stood up and faced Nace with an angry expression. "You want to have go at me, Bilby."

"Gladly, wanker!" Nace replied preparing to strike Spyde with the muzzle of his rifle if he had to.

"Oi! Wind your necks in before I sort you both out!" Sergeant Prinsloo said as he thrust a hand between the two soldiers.

* * *

 **Dequar Road Base  
** **Pretoria, South Africa  
** **Nace, Zaf, Tiny, and Nyathi  
** **11 April 2004, 1707**

"Hyenas really ate the wounded guy?" Zaf hefted the barrel of the Vektor SS-77 light machinegun he was cleaning.

Nace nodded as he took the barrel from Zaf and seated it into the SS-77. "If you couldn't sort out a wounded bloke soon enough, the hyenas would get him. They got especially bold as the war progressed."

"I thought hyenas were wary of man." Zaf pulled the charging handle of the SS-77 to the rear and squeezed the trigger to do a functions check of the weapon.

"Well, lets not forget as late as the 1970s it was the comforting tradition of some tribes to drag their dead and dying into the bush and let the hyenas get to them." Nace replied.

"So what happened to Spyde?" Nyathi asked, looking up from cleaning his own rifle.

"After Apartheid ended he chose to leave the South African military," Nace replied, "Honestly a lot of us were glad to see him go."

"What are terrs, again, boss?" Nyathi asked.

"Terrs, that's Rhodesian Army slang for terrorist," Nace replied, "We adopted it in the South African Army as well after near three decades of working with the Rhodesians."

Presently the men finished cleaning their weapons and packed their gear away. After changing into civilian clothes they stepped out of the building and towards the parking lot.

"Oi, Bilby!" Dinger said, "Don't think you've gotten out of telling us about the _naartjie_ in New York City."

"And of course your upcoming first date in six years," Baz smirked.

"Wanker." Nace shot him the finger with a slight grin.

"I'm more curious about this whole nurse story," Nyathi began.

Nace fixed Tiny with a glare, and the big man held both hands palms up, "I didn't tell them anything."

"It's ancient history." Nace replied, "Anyway, I'll meet you lot there. I've got someplace to go first."

"Right, we'll see you there," Dinger popped the door to his car open, "At Elephant and Friends Pub."

"Certainly _bru_." Nace nodded and walked off.

"Oi, Bilby," Baz waved, "Need a ride?"

"Thanks, Baz, I appreciate it." Nace replied.

* * *

 **St. John the Baptist Catholic Church  
** **Pretoria, South Africa  
** **Nace Bilby and Benjamin 'Baz' Vaas  
** **11 April 2004, 1752**

"I appreciate the ride, _bru_ ," Nace said as he stepped out of the car.

"No problem," Baz clutching a cigarette in his mouth.

"I'll not be long," Nace said before closing the door and walking towards the brick building. As he entered the church, dipping his fingers in the Holy Water and crossing himself.

He walked towards the small alcove by the altar where several candles were lit. He approached it, striking a match from the small stockpile beside the candles, lighting one of them before he knelt down and crossed himself.

"For the men who did not return home. For the men whose lives we took on the other side. For those of us who remain among the living." Nace said softly before crossing himself.

Nace walked out of the church to find Baz standing outside, smoking a cigarette. "Your little ritual?"

"Yeah," Nace replied, "Always for the same three. The blokes who didn't return. The lives we took. And those of us among the living."

"I see why you asked to make the switch from sniper to EOD," Baz blew smoke into the air.

"I do think I did the Lord's work both as a sniper and as an EOD operator. I think, though, in the case of the latter I really do God's work," Nace replied, "After all landmines are a big killer out here."

"I do question if the Old Man upstairs exists," Baz sighed, "With what we saw during the war..."

"Someone made sure we survived the Battle of the Line," Nace countered.

Baz took another drag off his cigarette, "There were a lot of blokes that didn't. Why did the Old Man upstairs, if he exists, take them?"

"That's your business if you believe in him or not." Nace replied, "Faith is an individual thing after all."

"You'd make a rotten chaplain, Bilby," Baz quipped as he flicked some ash from his cigarette to the ground.

"Not my place to preach to others. On another note, have you visited the memorial yet?" Nace asked.

Baz blew a bit of smoke from his cigarette, "No, I haven't."

"I've not been there yet, but I do want to go," Nace reached into a pocket, hearing his cell phone buzz. He took a look at the screen and saw its display read 'Dinger'.

He opened the phone and said, "We'll be there shortly, bru. We're about to leave the church."

"Why do you want to go?" Baz asked.

"To remember the lads that didn't make it," Nace tucked his hands into his pockets, walking towards the car.

* * *

 **Deric and Ivy's Residence  
** **Brooklyn, N.Y.C.  
** **Deric and Ivy Storm  
** **12 April 2004, 0645**

Deric smiled as he watched Ivy slide the black pencil skirt up over her hips before fastening it closed. He let out a low whistle as he took in how it contrasted nicely with the ivory silk blouse she wore.

"Red," he smiled as he fastened his belt buckle, "I am loving your fashion choice."

Ivy turned to face him, smiling coyly, "If nothing else, it stops Goliath from nipping at my heels."

"Maybe we should babysit Goliath more often," Deric quipped sarcastically.

Ivy walked towards Deric, slowly, deliberately sashaying her hips as she did so. A wry smile creased her features as she stopped just short of him. She put her arms around his neck, and looked up at him. "And let's not forget Zack's coming in tonight."

"I did buy up the groceries, Red." Deric wrapped his arms around his wife's waist.

"A home cooked dinner? We _definitely_ should babysit Goliath more often." Ivy slid closer to Deric before angling her face up to kiss her husband.

Deric leaned down closer, kissing his wife. Ivy pressed her body against her husband, eyes closed. She moaned lightly into the kiss.

 _Hmm, we've got to feed the dogs before we leave for work. Got to remember forty-five minutes for traffic. Remember to straighten out my clothes and maybe we might have time...oooh..._ Ivy thought as she felt Deric nuzzle her neck.

There was a sound of barking from outside the bedroom door. Ivy sighed, "Well there goes that idea."

"Awesome timing," Deric grumbled.

He headed for the door in time to see Goliath and Ghost sitting outside the bedroom door, mouths open and tails wagging.

"Chowhounds," Deric quipped before heading down the stairs to go feed them. Deric could hear the clicking of Ivy's stiletto heels behind him.

"I swear Goliath's also influencing Ghost." Ivy smirked.

"Hopefully Ghost is a calming influence on Goliath," Deric replied.

Ivy reached over to get her purse as they watched the dogs tear eagerly into their meals. After the dogs ate Deric let them out into the back garden of their apartment to take care of their business before letting them back into the house.

As they headed for the front door, Ivy let out a gasp as she felt a sharp sensation through her bottom. She glanced behind her and down in time to see Deric's hand moving away.

"Rain check for later?" Deric smirked.

"If you can be a good boy through the rest of the day...and dinner," Ivy smiled before walking to the car, with a seductive sway of her hips.

* * *

 **Elephant and Friends Bar  
** **Pretoria, South Africa  
** **Nace, Baz, Dinger, Tiny, and Zaf  
** **11 April 2004, 1833**

"Welcome!" Dinger said as he knocked back a shot of whiskey. He saw Baz and Nace walking into the bar towards the table where a good number of men from the troop were clustered.

"Wanker," Nace replied with a slight smirk.

"What's going on?" Zaf whispered to Tiny.

"It's an old tradition we have. We do three toasts on the last day of drill," Tiny replied as he took a sip of his own beer.

"For what?" Zaf asked.

"You'll see," Tiny replied as Nace and Baz ordered their drinks.

"Right," Munro said, "I'd like to propose a toast. To the lads who didn't return home."

"Here. Here." came the solemn call from around the table.

The men took drinks from their glasses as Dinger began, "To the lads among the living."

"Here. Here." The men echoed.

Nace raised his glass of bourbon, "To all of us. Living. Dead. Veterans and neophytes. God's will to us all."

"Here. Here."

"Right," Baz grinned, hefting a soft leather case, "Who's up for some billiards."

"Pfah! Who's up to see me clean up on Baz," Dinger replied.

"Bloody pool sharks," Nace quipped and took a sip of his bourbon.

"Right, gentlemen, place your bets," Munro toothily smiled as he extracted a small black leather notebook and a mechanical pencil from his pocket.

Nace reached into his pocket and pulled out a few Rand, "Boss, put me down for the spread."

Munro clicked his pencil, "Not supporting either of your mates, eh?"

"Trying not to lose too much of my hard earned pay," Nace quipped.

"Promises to be a lively game," Munro replied, knocking back a sip of his Old Fashioned, before smiling, "So what's this I've heard about some _naartjie_ in New York City."

"That's right," Baz replied, setting his pool cue aside.

"You wankers," Nace groaned as he proceeded to tell his mates about ADA Borgia.

Dinger said, "Well, according to Nace, she's 5'10", of Italian descent, fair, soft looking skin, brown hair…"

As Dinger repeated Nace's description, near word for word, Nace turned red and that wasn't just from the bourbon he was drinking.

"Sounds quite lovely," Zaf remarked.

Nace smiled, "Very much so…"

"Someone's got it bad," Baz chimed in.

"I've got a date with her when I get back to New York City," Nace replied.

"Oh, let's hear this…" Dinger grinned toothily.

* * *

TBC


End file.
